


Stay With Me

by ohmyfae



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Action! Romance! Cheesy movie cliches!, Alternate Universe - Mob, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fire, Gonna say outright that the death is NOT Gladio or Noctis, M/M, Some depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:06:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmyfae/pseuds/ohmyfae
Summary: From the kinkmeme:Gladiolus Amicitia is one of the best mercenaries in the business. Regis Caelum, the terrifying head of one of the most extensive organized crime syndicates in the country, hires him to protect his son, Noctis, who was been targeted by an enemy of Regis'. Gladio soon finds that protecting Noctis is a job and a half: He seems to have no sense of self preservation, and takes poorly to Gladio's attempts at reining him in.But the enemies of the Caelums are getting closer, and it won't be long before they take the opportunity to strike.





	1. Chapter 1

Regis Caelum, the youngest boss of the Lucis crime family in nearly thirty years, opened the door to his study to find his wife sitting on the desk, holding a lighter to the large, glossy print of their official wedding photo. 

Aulea Caelum’s curly black hair was tied up in a heavy bun at the back of her head, streaks of dark red creeping up from her roots. She had one high-heeled foot propped up on a bust of her father’s favorite writer, and her pencil skirt, patterned with roses, strained and rucked up to her thighs. When she smiled at Regis, he felt the same shiver of fear and longing that had struck him the first time they met, young and foolish and thinking themselves immortal. He took one cautious step into the office, and faltered. 

“Close the door,” Aulea said. She blew on the fire crawling up the side of the photo, licked her forefinger, and put out the edges. 

“You’ve let this go on too long,” she said. Regis came to her, drawn in by the dark slash of her smile, the way she flicked her thumb along the catch of the lighter, flame sparking and dying at her whim. He took the lighter from her, and she pressed her burned finger to his lips. He tasted the heat of it, and laid a hand to the warm swell of her belly. 

“I won’t let him live like we did,” she said, and turned so that she sat before him, feet dangling down from the edge of the desk. Regis ran a worshipful hand down to her thigh. 

“Of course not, love,” he said. “Noctis will want for nothing. We’ve seen to that.”

“You haven’t seen to _everything,_ ” Aulea said. Regis’ hand stilled, and he looked to the photo. There, standing next to Aulea and Regis, was a broad-shouldered man with large hands and a tilt to his hips. His head, and most of the clear sky behind him, was burned through. 

“He needs to be dealt with, Regis.” Aulea’s hand clenched at the top of the photo, making cracks along the drooping trees over their wedding pavilion. “If you don’t…” She lowered her voice, and hooked a foot around Regis’ knee, drawing him close. “If _we_ don’t, Noctis will never be safe.”

 

**Insomnia, Eighteen Years Later:**

 

Summer at the Caelum mansion came in a chaos of flowers: Roses the size of a thumbnail hung from baskets along the high stone fence, jasmine was thick over the tunnel-like pathway leading up to the front door, and on either side of the entrance stood rows and rows of sunflowers. Gladiolus Amicitia crushed white flower petals under his tailored boots, and risked loosening the top button of his collar as he reached the door.

It was important, Gladio knew, to maintain a professional appearance with the Caelums. Regis Caelum was a legend: Where some men were content to run their corner of the world and go to war with anyone who looked at them sideways, Regis had his hands in nearly every aspect of organized crime in the country. He was the man crime lords wished they could be. He advised, he negotiated, he stepped in as mediator in hundreds of feuds across the country, employing his own fiercely loyal force of men and women who answered to him alone. It was said that there was a Caelum spy in every crime family along the east coast.

So when he asked for you by name, you came to him at your best.

Gladio was shown to a small waiting room, where he sat in a mahogany chair and let a grim young man with dark braids confiscate his phone. He examined the paintings on the wall—All originals, Gladio noted, even if he did get his artists confused when it came to the ones who painted waifish women reclining on riverbeds. There were a few scattered photos here and there, some cut suspiciously narrow, as though blocking out other people in the frame, and Gladio squinted at them, trying to see if there were any faces he could recognize. It wasn't long before he was invited in to the adjoining office, where he sat in yet another dark-paneled chair and faced one of the most powerful men in the country.

Regis Caelum smiled.

“Gladiolus,” he said. “Pleased to meet you in the flesh at last.”

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” Gladio said.

“I’ve followed your career since you worked with my people in the Juniper Creek affair,” Regis said, and Gladio tried not to show his surprise. “You’ve taken on an impressive number of contracts, and you have followed each one to the letter.” 

Gladio thought to respond, but saw the way Regis’ hands shifted to a file on his desk, and stayed silent.

“Not one failure,” Regis said, in a soft tone. “That is why I’ve called you here today.” 

He pushed the file towards Gladio and flipped it open. It was full of glossy, out of focus photographs. They were all of a young man, just at college age, possibly still in his teens, dark-haired with a distinctive narrow chin and a sideways slip of a smile.

“My son,” Regis said. “Noctis Caelum, age eighteen. We received these photos in an unmarked envelope four days ago.”

In one of the photos, Gladio could see the bright line where someone had crossed out Noctis’ face with a red marker. “A threat?” he asked. “Would you like me to find who took these?”

“No,” Regis said. “I have a team working on that now. What I need you for is simple. You are to shadow Noctis until this is resolved. Neutralize any threat to his person, but with the same discretion you've shown in your prior contracts. We can provide legal counsel should you run afoul with the law, but if you break the contract, we will leave you to your own devices.”

Gladio nodded. It was a common caveat. “May I see the terms?” He took a set of papers from Regis, and slowly pored through them. He would be living in the Caelum mansion, in a room connecting to Noctis’. The pay was substantial enough, and the rules were about as thorough as other bodyguard gigs he’d taken in the past. But even so, he knew when he got the call from Regis’ subordinate that he’d take the job. No one turned down the chance to work for a Caelum. As an Amicitia in particular, it would be foolish for Gladio to decline. This was his chance, an opportunity to prove himself worthy in the eyes of a man his father once spoke of with reverence.

And if Regis’ son was even half as impressive as Regis himself, this might be the easiest job Gladio had taken in his life.

 

\---

 

“If you fuckers wanna have a go,” Noctis Caelum said, crushing his cigarette under his heel, “then you're gonna have to wait." He raised an eyebrow at the furious, scowling faces of the young men before him, and tapped out another cigarette.

A fist curled in the soft fabric of Noctis’ skull-patterned shirt, dragging him forward half a step. The man holding him was almost twice his size, and his gelled hair was dripping over his face and soaking the front of his suit.

“My girl and I,” he said, “were minding our own business before you came along.”

“Really?” Noctis peered at the woman, who was standing off to the side. “Looked to me like you were getting trashed outside a charity—I mean, way to go, super classy, man—while your _girl_ and I had a nice, long, philosophical discussion—” 

There was a crack as the man struck Noctis on the jaw. Noctis grinned, staggering to a crouch at the railing of the bridge beyond the museum entrance. Below them, boats carrying freight passed in the dark, tarp sheets crackling in the breeze.

“Huh,” Noctis said, touching his lip and examining the blood on his fingers. “So you _are_ as much of a dumbass as you seem to be.”

“The fuck you say?”

The small tableau froze as headlights flooded the bridge, blinding white and accompanied by the low hum of an expensive motor. Noctis groaned, and the man and his friends stepped back, leaving him in a pool of empty space.

The car door snapped open, and two sets of expensive shoes hit the asphalt. 

“Oh,” Noctis said. “Hey, Nyx.”

The man he addressed rolled his eyes and whispered to his companion: A tall, heavily-muscled man with thick dark hair shaved up the sides and falling to a ragged mullet in the back. He looked at Noctis sharply, and the young man sighed and hurriedly lit his cigarette. 

“You the new nanny?” he asked. The man didn't react, just stepped forward. 

“Noctis?” he asked.

“Wow,” Noctis said, breathing out smoke into the harsh light of the car. “Brains _and_ brawn. You're the whole package, big guy.”

“Hey,” said one of the men in the group further down the bridge. “We aren't done.”

Noctis shrugged, leaning back to look down at the boats passing below. “Yeah, but I am.” He flicked his cigarette over the edge and grinned at the man next to Nyx, showing off bloodstained teeth. “Tell Dad I said love you, too.”

“Alright,” the new guy said. “How about we—”

Noctis groaned again, louder this time, and swung his body over the rail. He winked even as the man lunged for him, and dropped down onto one of the boats passing by below. He rolled to his feet, laughing softly to himself as the people on the bridge screamed, cursed, and shouted after him. 

There was a heavy thump behind him, and the boom of metal. He turned, and stared numbly up into the grim face of the man from the car. 

“Right,” the man said. He dropped to the deck of the boat, and his shadow eclipsed the lights of the museum above. “So we’re doin’ this the hard way.”

 

\---

 

Noctis Caelum tilted his head as Gladio approached, and hooked his thumbs in his tight black jeans. Blood ran dark down his chin from the cut on his lip, and his eyes were unfocused, looking just to the left of Gladio’s face. 

“Look, man,” he said. “You're new, right? So you don't know how this works yet.”

Gladio stepped closer, and a hand snaked out of the cabin of the boat to slap the roof. “Y’all better get off my boat before I call the cops on y’all’s ass!” cried a high, reedy voice within. Noctis twisted round to glance their way, and shrugged.

“You heard them,” he said, and, before Gladio could close the gap between them, jumped into the canal.

Gladio cursed darkly and leapt after him, mourning the ruin of his last good suit. 

Noctis might’ve been a wily, slippery, contrary son of a bitch, but he wasn't anything like a good swimmer. Gladio caught up with him before he reached the shore, and grabbed him by the shoulder, twisting his arm behind his back. Like he expected, Noctis didn't know how to wriggle loose, and just jerked and sputtered in Gladio’s hold. 

“The fuck is your problem?” 

Gladio looked down on the soaked, bleeding teen in his grip and raised an eyebrow. “Right now? You.”

“I told you,” Noctis spat. Gladio marched him onto the shore. “This isn't how it works. Dad hired you to watch me, didn't he?”

Gladio didn't feel much like answering. He pushed him forward, and Noctis swore.

“So you watch me,” Noctis said. “You don't interfere. You don't _chase_ me.” 

“Amazing,” Gladio said. “Don't even know my name, and you already know how to do my job.”

“I don't _need_ to know your name.” Noctis tried to twist away again, but Gladio just shook him slightly. “You're just another one of Dad’s guards. And trust me, you won't be for long.”

“Can't be fired from a job I don't have,” Gladio said. He saw a flicker of fear cross Noctis’ face. “I’m here to keep you alive. I don't really care if you're happy about it.”

He held Noctis there for a moment, and dug in his pocket for his phone. He sent a silent thanks to his sister, Iris, for buying him a waterproof case last year, and dialed the number of Nyx Ulric, his contact in the Caelum family.

They waited in uneasy silence for the black car to arrive, Noctis grumbling to himself while Gladio watched the shadows. When the car pulled up, Nyx rolled down the passenger’s side window and grinned, wide and wicked.

“Getting along?” he asked. Noctis almost snarled. Gladio released him as Noctis squelched his way into the back seat, and Gladio climbed in next to Nyx.

“Pass on a complaint to Dad, Nyx.” The young man was positively livid, cheeks burning as he kicked off his shoes. “I want this guy sent to fucking _Tenebrae._ ”

“Nice weather there this time of year,” Gladio said. Noctis glowered impressively.

Nyx was still grinning as he shook his head. “No can do, Noct. Gladiolus Amicitia’s one of the best mercenaries in the business. Mr. Caelum’s put you in _his_ hands, now.”

Noctis’ face slowly slackened with horror. “You're kidding,”

“Nope.” Nyx laughed, and turned down the main road towards the Caelum mansion. “You and Gladio? You’re gonna be seeing a whole lot of each other from now on.”

Gladio smirked at Noct’s gutteral cry of indignation. Noct leaned forward and slammed his hand down on a button behind their seats, and a dark glass partition whirred and clicked between them, blocking him from view. Gladio sighed, and Nyx cackled, whistling cheerfully as he drove.


	2. Chapter 2

Gladio had never seen a full grown man throw a temper tantrum before. Sure, Noctis was still eighteen, and he wasn't exactly screaming or throwing things around, but Gladio knew his own thirteen-year-old sister wouldn't be allowed to pull off a sulk this intense. Noctis spent a solid half hour demanding to see his father, another ten explaining to one of his old guards, Ignis, that Gladio was a _monster,_ and when that went nowhere further than a few nasty looks in Gladio’s direction, stormed into his room and blasted the worst indie punk Gladio had heard in his life.

Gladio shrugged off the amused looks of the staff he passed in the halls, and entered his own lodgings. His belongings had been moved up while he and Nyx were out trying to find out where Noctis had run off to, and there was a locked weapons rack with his gear already fitted inside. He set up the passcode for the lock, then started unpacking his books, setting them on the shelf above the bed. 

The music coming from Noctis’ room stopped abruptly, and Gladio stepped back to look through the connecting door between his room and Noct’s. Noctis stood there, one hand clenched on the doorframe, looking like Gladio had just started painting demonic symbols on the walls.

“Yeah?” Gladio said. “Something up?”

Noctis’ face twisted, and he slammed the door hard enough to make the paintings on the walls rattle.

Gladio sat down on the bed as the music started up again, causing a tremor to run through the hardwood floors. This, he realized, was going to be a harder job than he’d thought.

 

\---

 

Dawn had long crested the wall surrounding the Caelum mansion, unfurling the morning glories and twisting sunflowers on their stalks. The mansion slowly came alive as household staff, guards, and members of Regis’ spy network, the Glaives, passed down the halls and met with Regis or his subordinates for orders. Gladio spotted a few Glaives stopping just outside his door once or twice, but few of them bothered to give him more than a perfunctory greeting. In their line of work, the less they knew about their associates, the safer they were.

Noctis remained in bed, softly drooling into a duvet as the mansion was kicked into a quiet storm of activity. Gladio knew that much of it was due to Noctis himself: Searching for the one who’d taken the photos, tightening a ring of security around the mansion, setting up contingency plans should the threat prove more than an idle show of power. Noctis was the center of his father’s empire—Eighteen, painfully self-serving, and with no sense of personal responsibility. 

It was a damn shame.

Noctis woke around two in the afternoon, and rattled around his bedroom, cursing his bad luck. Gladio had the privilege of hearing how Noct had suffered, having to move out of his apartment and back into the mansion because “Dad’s so fucking paranoid.” He learned how deeply Noctis hated the mess in his room despite the fact that he refused to let anyone in to clean it, bore through muttered curses as Noctis searched for his favorite shirt, and heard, in great detail, every aspect of his own character that Noct hated.

“We don't have to be friends,” Gladio said, through the slightly open door between their rooms. Noctis scoffed.

“Trust me,” he said. “I never thought we would be.”

When Noctis left the mansion at last, Gladio followed him, wearing black leather pants and a grey tank top, with a jacket that hid the line of his gun from view. Noctis eyed him warily, but had seemed to accept Gladio as a sort of walking disaster, and merely kept his distance. 

Noctis’ first stop in the life of the son of a crime lord’s crime lord was to hit the arcade. Gladio hovered by the claw machines as the dark-haired teen fought with a blonde over a shooting game, whispered quietly to a group of guys, and then, with what he probably thought was a sly glance in Gladio’s direction, tried to drag one of them off through the back service door. When Gladio followed them out, he saw them pawing at each other almost lazily, speaking in hissing whispers over the music of the arcade.

“Really?” Noctis said, when Gladio took up a position on the other side of the alley. “You don't have anything better to do?”

Gladio bit back a sharp retort. “Do what you want.”

“Not like I need your permission for that.” Noct pushed away from the guy trying to shove his hands up his shirt. “Hey. We should hit the Behemoth.”

The man stopped, looking from Noctis to Gladio warily. “I dunno, Noct. The Behemoth’s kind of… seedy.”

“Then you don't have to. Gods.” Noctis pulled a new pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and started walking off towards the street. Gladio spared a glance back to find the guy looking stricken, watching them go with a lost, wounded look in his eyes.

"That your boyfriend?" Gladio asked. Noctis scoffed.

"Hardly. Why do you care?"

"I don't." 

"Then fuck off," Noct said, and lit his cigarette. He blew smoke into Gladio’s face in a long, deliberate breath. Gladio clenched his jaw so tight that his teeth ached.

The Behemoth, so far as bars designed to make a mercenary-turned-bodyguard lose their fucking mind went, was a mess. It was a repurposed warehouse, which gave it too many vantage points from the second floor. There were at least seventeen optimal places to hide in the first floor alone, the furniture and decor was placed so that finding a quick escape route would be next to impossible, and Noctis, of course, went right for the bar, which could be seen from every angle. 

But that wasn't what bothered Gladio. Not really.

“You know,” he whispered, when Noctis seated himself at the end of the bar, “that this is run by the Nifs.”

Nif bars were notorious in most major cities along the east coast these days. They were major hubs for drug and weapon smuggling, and Regis Caelum had refused to assist them after they declared war on the police force of Tenebrae, which had been in the Caelum pockets for years. Noctis showing up at a Nif bar was the equivalent of jumping into a pit of sharks at feeding time.

“You don't fucking say,” Noct said, and ordered a drink. Gladio groaned inwardly and watched the patrons around them. A number of people were eyeing Noct, some openly, some with varying shades of feigned indifference. 

Noctis had taken half a sip of his drink—fruity, with a hilarious paper behemoth on a stick—when Gladio saw movement. He was at Noctis’ side in an eyeblink, lifting his drink out of his hands as a light-haired kid about his age tried to knock it to the floor. Noctis reached up to take the drink back from Gladio, smiling at the stranger cheerily.

“Loqi,” he said. “You're here? Wow. I’d never guess.”

Loqi snarled. “We told you not to come back, princess,” he said. Noct gave him a steady, blank look, and reached for his drink again. Gladio stayed between them, too solid a presence to be budged.

“I knew you'd miss me,” Noctis said. “Gladio. Give me back my drink.”

“After the shit your friend Cor did to my operation,” Loqi said, practically spitting the words, “you think you can just walk right in here—”

“Well, I did, didn't I?”

Loqi lunged. Gladio intercepted him, blocking the blow with an arm and knocking Loqi back. The young man stumbled into another bar patron, who accidentally spilled their beer down his back.

Gladio rolled his shoulders and turned to Noctis. “You sure know how to make friends,” he started, but the words died on his lips. He looked down at the bar stool, which was spinning with a lazy, rusty squeal of metal and plastic. Beyond it, the bar was full of shadow, of ladders and booths and grinning faces peering out of the dim-lit gloom. 

Gladio scanned the crowd, and caught a flash of black clothes and pale limbs disappearing into the dark. 

Noctis was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING TIME:   
> Ok, so some fighting happens, and after the mid-way break, there's an enclosed dark space, bugs that are probably roaches, and an ensuing panic attack. I wanted to let y'all know, just in case.

“You know…” Nyx Ulric’s voice sounded thick through the phone, like he was talking around a mouthful of bread. “If you kill the boss’ son yourself, that still counts as breaking contract.”

“It's a tempting thought, not gonna deny it.”

Gladio picked up his pace, striding out of the Behemoth Bar with a scowl that made the Nifs at the door back up and glance away. On the phone, Nyx laughed.

“Can't believe he caught you with the bar trick,” he said. “That kid’s been banned from so many bars in the city, I thought he’d have to try the next county over.”

“Yeah, well, you might wanna send a car if you—” Gladio grinned as he drew up to the street. “Y’know what? We’re good. Take an early night.”

“Maiming counts, too,” Nyx warned, before Gladio could turn off his phone. A few yards down the street, Noctis Caelum was stepping into a grey cab. He was smiling to himself, taking his sweet time as he settled into the back seat, and didn't have a chance to react when Gladio came up behind him and threw himself into the cab.

“The fuck!” Noct kicked his foot out, and Gladio grabbed it, shoving his leg down. The cab driver gaped at them through the rearview mirror, saw Gladio’s murderous glare, and quietly pulled the car out of park.

“I’m sure you thought that was smart,” Gladio said. Noct’s hand snaked for the door handle behind him, and Gladio slapped down the lock. 

Noctis tried to shrug, but the back of the cab was a tight fit, and his shoulder jabbed into Gladio’s chest. “Not really,” he said. “But it worked on _you._ ”

Gladio found that he’d reflexively wrapped his fingers around the collar of Noctis’ shirt. He loosened his grip, and Noct fell back on the seat with a huff. “This isn't a game,” he said, lowering his voice to a faint whisper. “You could’ve been killed back there.”

“By Loqi?” Noct laughed. “Even I could take that guy.”

“Probably,” Gladio said, “but that’s not what I mean. I mean the people who took those photos. The reason I'm here.”

For a minute, the only sound was that of the radio, and the cab driver humming softly under his breath.

“What photos?” Noct asked. His voice cracked, and his gaze roved over Gladio’s face as though he were trying to work out a code. 

“You don't know,” Gladio said.

“Uh.” The cab driver rubbed the back of his head. “We’re at the club if you, uh, haven't changed your mind…”

“Don't know what?” Noctis asked. Gladio withdrew, but he pushed himself up, keeping the two of them nose to nose. “Don't know _what?_ ”

“The thing is, I have four hours left on my shift,” the driver said.

“We should head back to the mansion,” said Gladio. Where he could ask Regis Caelum, as politely as fucking possible, why a man who ditched his guards and got into pointless fights for the hell of it would be kept in the dark. As it was, Noctis didn't exactly seem frightened—more calculating, looking at Gladio like he was a hopeless dog that had finally learned how to shake hands. 

“If I ask what you know, will you actually tell me?” Gladio hesitated, and Noctis frowned. “Right. Whatever.” He felt for the lock behind him, and shoved open the door. 

“That’s twenty-five you owe me,” the driver said, and Gladio peeled a few bills from his pocket while Noctis slipped out onto the street. He caught up with Noct at the door of the club, where Noct was trying to get in through the VIP entrance. 

“Noctis,” Gladio said. Noctis ignored him, drumming his fingers on his thighs. He stood at an angle, Gladio noticed, favoring his left leg, and the edge of his mouth had gone hard. “Noctis, you should head home.”

“Are we on first name terms? Really?” Noct snapped. “Call me Caelum.” 

“If that's what you want,” Gladio said. “Mr. Caelum, then.”

The club bouncer winced, and Noctis turned on him. “What?”

“I’m sorry, kid,” the bouncer said. “But this club’s under new management, and we got a warning about the Caelums—”

“What, again? Fucking great.” Noct pivoted on his heel and stalked off into the growing dark, pulling out his now squashed box of cigarettes. It took him several tries to pull one out, and after watching him fumble with his lighter in furious silence, Gladio took pity and snatched it out of his hand.

“Nasty habit,” he said, stopping to hold out the light for him. Noctis leaned down, and Gladio could see the tight crease to his brows, the tremor in his fingers.

“Thanks, mom.” Noctis muttered. He released a cloud of smoke as he straightened, and Gladio’s eyes watered with the sting of it. He rocked back, and saw that the bouncer at the club had switched shifts, and the new guy was watching them, tilting his head in an attempt to be surreptitious.

“So.” Noct took another drag. “These photos.”

“Not sure if we can talk about this in public, Mr. Caelum,” Gladio said. The new bouncer was still looking at them, but his gaze was fixed just over their shoulders. Gladio turned and peered into the dark of a side street. “Or be in public. Something about that bouncer…”

“Yeah, he was an asshole.”

There were some sounds, in Gladio’s experience, that transcended time. There were some that could bring him into high alert in a fraction of a second, carrying with them the collective weight of years of fighting more than just sarcastic teens with a lack of self-preservation. The creak of leather, for instance—Which made sitting at the Amicitia family dinner table awkward, since his dad preferred leather seat backs—or the crack of stone on concrete, made his mind go focused and sharp for hours. Even certain smells would set him off, throw him into a time when he was Noct’s age, eager to prove himself, never minding what he broke on the way.

The sound of a gun being cocked was distinctive, a rounded click in the dark to their left.

Noctis cursed as Gladio kicked him behind the knees, bringing him down just in time for the first gunshot to go off. A bullet lodged in the plaster wall where Noct’s head had been. Gladio pulled out his own gun.

“Stay behind me,” he said. He could hear Noct’s breath, harsh and shallow, at his feet. “And stay down.”

 

\---

 

Noctis Lucis Caelum had been called many things in his life, not all of them true, but one thing he could say with all honesty was that he was, and always would be, a professional heir.

He inherited his mother’s eyes. He had her cheekbones, too, and her ability to drink most of the known world under the table without losing her balance. He had his father’s hair, and, if turning the contents of his lungs to ash counted, his love of fire. When he was five, he inherited his father’s bum knee, shattered under the force of a bullet during a firefight that took out half their security guards and left Noctis in a coma for months. He inherited the knowledge of what death smelled like, of the sound of flesh hitting the street, of the rattle of breath as punctured lungs filled with blood. 

Afterwards, Noctis was kept safe in his rooms in the mansion, and his father disappeared further into the sprawling Caelum empire that would be Noctis’ most hated inheritance.

Because for Noctis, to be a Caelum was to inherit fear, hatred, and aching loneliness. It was a legacy as firm as the asphalt on which he crouched, still warm from the dwindling daylight, while his newest guard fired a gun into the shadows of an alley beyond.

“Shit,” hissed Gladio, and fired twice more, aiming too high to hit anyone on the ground. There was a squeal of metal as the rusting ladder of a fire escape crashed down, and a heavy grunting sound. Noctis couldn't see what the ladder struck, but he did flinch at the sound of a fourth shot, and a cry of pain in the distance.

“Sloppy,” Gladio muttered. A phone dropped to his feet, and he glanced around, gaze fiercely sharp. “Mr. Caelum, I’ll need you to contact Nyx, give him our location. Password is 358906.”

Something in Noctis responded immediately to the command in Gladio’s voice, and he scrabbled for the phone. It took him two tries to get the number right, and he pressed the call button for Nyx just as Gladio swept his leg around to brace Noct on the other side. Beyond them, Noctis could hear screams coming from the club as people discovered the source of the sound. 

Nyx picked up on the second ring. “He give you the slip again?” he asked.

“Someone’s shooting us,” Noctis said.

“And two people watching from the roofs on the other side of the street,” Gladio added.

“And that.” Before Nyx could finish cursing and knocking over what sounded like plates, he added, “We’re on 24th and… Shit, 24th and Pax? Right, yeah. So. Uh.”

“We’re on the way,” Nyx said. The usual humor was gone from his tone, leaving his voice chilly and clipped. Noctis felt the fear twisting in his throat like a ball of cotton, cutting off his air.

“We have to move,” Gladio said. “You’re gonna hate this one, kid.”

“I’m not—” Noctis choked on the words. His voice sounded weak, broken. Better not to talk at all, even if Gladio couldn't be older than twenty-three himself. Even if he was a grade A asshole with no sense of personal boundaries. Because right now, he was an asshole with a gun, and Noctis could feel the bones in his knee ache like they were breaking apart a second time.

Gladio gestured with his head, and they moved to the street. Noct stopped when a bullet struck inches from Gladio’s left boot, but Gladio just grabbed him by the arm and dragged him along behind him. 

“Get in,” he said. Noctis blinked. Get in where? It took him a few short, panicky seconds to get it: Gladio was standing in front of a manhole, one of the ones that steamed on cold days and rattled under car tires. 

“You gotta be—”

“Don't fucking question me,” Gladio said. “Get in.”

Noctis stared at the manhole cover, and cursed darkly. This was quickly shaping up to be the worst week of his fucking life. Noct shoved the cover aside and tried to pretend he couldn't see skittering movement down below, and forced himself to take a step onto the rusted, slippery rung of the service ladder.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Gladio growled, and Noct groaned and climbed down, coating his hands with slime and rust. Just as he was low enough for just his shoulders to rise above the street, he saw Gladio crouch down. A firm hand gripped his shoulder and shoved him below the lip of the manhole.

“Wait,” Noct said, as Gladio grabbed the cover. “Wait, no. Please, no, don't—oh god—”

The cover swallowed the darkening sky, leaving only a sliver of light behind. 

In the dark, Noctis could hear the trickle of water, the rustle and slosh of small creatures rushing about in the murk, and the echoing crack of gunfire.

He didn't know how he could be breathing so hard and yet feel like he could barely fill his lungs. Something crawled over his hand, but he couldn't let go, and had to wait for it to flutter onto the wall by his head instead. He prayed that the rumble of the street and the squeal of tires was help on the way, that the gunshots he could hear so close came from Gladio, that he wouldn't be left in the dark. Again, like he’d been left before, drifting in uncertain, terrifying dreams while the world went on without him.

Then, after what felt like hours of waiting, the cover was kicked open, and Gladio’s tattooed arm was thrust down in Noct’s view. He grabbed onto it, never minding how his fingers left filthy tracks down his tan skin, and let himself be hauled into the open. 

“Come on,” Gladio said. Noctis stumbled after him, barely registering the black-clad men and women milling about in the street, talking to a police officer at the corner of the club. There was another hand on his shoulder—Gladio’s again, he thought—and he was pushed into a van that smelled like steel and leather. Noct fell against the side of it, head swimming.

Gladio knelt before him, rocking with the movement of the van. Or maybe, Noct thought, he wasn't moving at all, and it was just the strange, light-headed distance crowding out the rest of the world.

“Mr. Caelum,” he said. 

“That's my dad’s name,” Noct said. His voice came out odd and muffled, like it was being said by someone on the other side of the van. What the hell was this guy doing, calling him by his last name? No one did that. Not since after the first attack. Who was it that had ambushed them? The ones firing out of the alley, through the crescent strip of light, against the silhouette of a woman throwing herself into the line of fire...

“Right,” Noct said. “The Marilith.”

“The Marilith ain't around anymore,” said the man with tattoos. He wasn't wearing the uniform of the Caelum family, but Noct was pretty sure he knew him. Pretty sure.

The man sat down next to him. “Can you give me your name?” he asked, in a softer voice.

“Noct,” he said. “You should know. Everyone knows.”

“What day is it, Noct?”

He had to think about it. “Thursday? No, Friday. It's Friday.” His voice sounded less distant, but the dizziness wasn't going away. He tried to take a breath, and was surprised to find it drag in stuttered and hitching.

“Can I touch you?” the man asked. No, Gladio. His name was Gladio. “You okay with that?”

“I don't know. Yes. Yeah, I’m. Yeah, you can.”

Gladio slowly lowered an arm around Noct’s shoulder, and pulled him into his side. Noct smelled leather, sweat, a sharp tang of the kind of body spray he used to wear when he first moved out of his dad’s place. It made him think of his old apartment, which reminded him that he’d been forced to move out just a week ago for “family reasons.” He remembered the tense looks of the guards in the mansion. The twist of an arm behind his back. Gladio, watching him from across the connecting door to their rooms.

The photographs. Gladio had said something about photos. And then they’d gone to the door of the club, and the bouncer had said…

By the time Noct fell back into himself, piece by piece, he was too exhausted to care that he’d let his head fall back against Gladio’s shoulder. Gladio’s hand was warm and gentle around his arm, and if he noticed how Noctis couldn't quite control his shaking hands and unsteady breaths, he didn't mention it. He just stared straight ahead, his body a bulwark against the cold metal of the van, and brushed his fingers over the bare skin below Noct’s shirtsleeve.

“You did good, Noct,” he said, in that same soft voice. “You did just fine.”


	4. Chapter 4

Gladio stood in the center of the Caelum mansion entranceway, holding Noctis upright with one hand while Regis gave him a cursory once-over.

“The way Ignis puts it, you were two inches deep in grime and covered in open wounds,” Regis said, with what could have been a smile if his face hasn't frozen in a mask of rage that couldn't quite fade away. Noctis shrugged. 

“I’m okay, Dad.” He wasn't. Gladio could see the dilation of his pupils, feel the shortness of his breath, and his voice was still too dreamy and light. “Kind of need a bath. But who were-”

“Good,” Regis said. He turned to a man at his right. “Cor, I need Drautos at my desk in fifteen. Niflheim has shown their hand. We’ll need to arrange for countermeasures, track how far they’ve come into the city.”

“They're everywhere,” Noctis said. “The clubs-”

“Yes,” Regis said, absently. “No more going out after dark, certainly. And I’ll contact Ravus, he’s our agent in their MT division.”

Noctis opened his mouth, brows furrowed in the frustration Gladio was becoming too used to, and Gladio squeezed his shoulder.

“Shower first,” he said. “Don't you think?”

Noct sighed. “Yeah. Probably didn't matter, anyway.”

Gladio watched Regis walk off with Cor, speaking quickly into his phone, and bit his tongue.

He left Noctis in his room, looking a little dazed but otherwise aware, and opened the door between their bedrooms while Noctis disappeared in his massive bathroom. He leaned against the frame, listening to the shower run, and ignored the taste of metal in his mouth and the grit and exhaust on his skin. 

Noctis’ skin was rubbed pink when he emerged in a ratty band t-shirt and jogging pants. He gave Gladio a long, slow look, and sat down against the wall near his bed.

“I figure,” Gladio said, as Noct twisted his fingers together, “that you deserve to know what’s going on.”

Noctis laughed softly. “You’ll be the first,” he said. 

Gladio stepped inside, sitting down opposite Noct with his back to the bed. Noct didn't look up when he spoke, only listened in silence as Gladio told him the terms of his contract with the Caelums, the photos in Regis’ files, and how, in his opinion, the attack on Noct that night seemed premeditated.

“So, about the clubs. You have a routine?” he asked. Noctis shrugged.

“Sort of. Not really. I keep getting turned away from places,” he stopped to scowl at his hands while he ripped at a nail, “and there aren't many clubs left, you know?”

A disquieting thought slipped into Gladio’s mind. “Think they were trying to back you into a corner?”

“Maybe.” Noct sighed. “But who buys out most of the night life in Insomnia just to kill me?”

Gladio raised a brow. “Hate to break it to you, but you're the son of the most powerful man in—”

“Yeah, I know. Okay?” Noct covered his face with his hands, and tipped his chin back. “Sorry.”

“That's a new one.”

Noct lowered his hands and rolled his eyes, but he didn't look at Gladio with the same vitriol as before. “Ha. I guess I forgot to say thanks. For… Back there. Not for the sewer thing, that was fucking terrible.”

“It was that or die. You ain't exactly Mr. Action Hero.”

“Excuse me for not being born with a hundred pounds of extra muscle.” Noctis almost smiled. It wasn't the wicked, mocking grin Gladio knew, but something small, tentative. Gladio smiled back.

Noctis stretched out his legs, and one of his feet pressed against Gladio’s thigh. Gladio wondered if he was searching for any form of contact, or if the fight had shaken him so much that he just didn't care.

“No one really taught me how,” Noct said, after a moment’s silence. “You know, to fight. Or run. Or anything. After the Mar—after I got shot, when I was a kid, my friend Luna wanted me to learn how to fight. But she had her own stuff to deal with, getting taken in by Niflheim, and Dad cut me out of anything to do with his work. Which is fine, I guess, but…” He waved a hand. “I freaked out back there.”

“Hey, that's what I’m here for,” Gladio said. “Ain't no shame in it.” He watched Noctis carefully, seeing the way his gaze slid away from him, and tapped his foot. “But if you want… I can teach you.”

 

\---

 

The next morning, Nyx Ulric rapped on the door of Gladio’s room at just after sunrise, holding a brown bag of frosted donuts under one arm. He swiped past the lock screen on his phone—His girlfriend, light hair tied up in a bun, dogs cavorting in the background while she flexed her bicep with a grin—and checked his phone for messages while he waited. Then he knocked again. And again.

“Hey,” he said, pulling out the master key from his pocket. “You’d better be decent, Gladio, because if I have to see your balls at five in the morning, I—”

He stopped. Gladio’s door swung open, but his bed was empty, the sheets folded with military precision. There wasn't even an indentation in the mattress. He inched forward, free hand shifting unconsciously for his holster, and paused at the door to Noctis’ room.

Gladio was asleep on the blue couch in front of Noct’s TV, one arm draped over the edge. Draping over _him,_ one foot propped up on his chest while the rest of his body had oozed to the floor, was Noctis.

“Weirdest fucking cuddle I ever saw,” Nyx said, and tapped the top of the couch. Gladio woke with a start, kicking Noct fully into the floor, where the guy drooled impressively on the patterned carpet.

Nyx rattled the bag. “Good. You're up. Leave sleeping beauty here and let’s debrief.”

Technically, Nyx was supposed to debrief Gladio in one of the offices on the third floor. But Ignis, one of the lifelong members of the Caelums and the childhood bodyguard of Noctis, was pacing the third floor like a wounded panther while Regis spoke with Cor and Drautos, and Nyx wasn't about to get involved in _that._ So he spread out the donuts on the table, set aside the best ones before Gladio could get to them, and went straight for the important question.

“The hell was that about?” he asked, jerking his head towards the room where Noctis could be heard snoring gently by the TV. Gladio smiled a little and leaned over to take the jam donut Nyx had bought special. Conniving bastard. Nyx bit into one of the cinnamon ones as a preemptive measure.

“Showed Noct some basic self defense moves last night,” Gladio said, through a mouthful of the best fucking pastry Nyx would never get to eat. 

“Yeah, okay,” Nyx said. “Pull the other one.” He waited, but Gladio just got up and went to the mini fridge for water. “You're serious? Noctis? This Noctis?”

Gladio shrugged. “Mm. Had to work around the bad leg, but--”

“He told you about that?” Nyx searched Gladio carefully. “Sure something didn't happen when you shoved him in the sewer? You pulled the right guy out, yeah?”

“I don't know,” Gladio said, reaching for the last chocolate pastry puff. Nyx knocked it out of the way, but Gladio caught it before it could slide off the table, and took a slow, deliberate bite. “When you get past the bullshit? He ain't half bad.”

 

\---

 

In the childhood bedroom of Regis Caelum’s only son, there came a muffled shout, and the thump of a body hitting the floor. Then there was the scrape of furniture being knocked back, a short intake of breath, and a muted curse.

Noctis tried to ignore the large, calloused hand clamped over his mouth, and stamped down on the inset of his attacker’s foot. The man hissed, and his hand slipped. Noct bit down on his forefinger and pushed himself out of his hold.

Gladio grinned, shaking out his hand. “That's good,” he said. “You went right for the foot that time.”

Noctis rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to look too pleased at the praise. “Yeah, I’m good like that.”

“Wanna go again?” Gladio asked. He hadn't even broken a sweat, even though Noct’s shirt was soaked through and he was breathing like he’d just run a mile. Gladio was wearing a fitted grey tank top, and the wings of his tattoo twisted as he rolled his shoulders.

“Yeah,” Noct said. “Okay.”

Gladio had him pinned to the floor in twenty seconds. Noct tried to remember what he’d told him about getting away, but the impact had jarred him too much to think straight. Besides, it was almost kind of comfortable. Gladio’s arm over his chest was firm, but not painful, and Noct wasnt really in pain. Gladio cast a dark shadow over him, blocking out the light. A necklace had slipped out of his tank top; A cross with a set of dog tags, and they hung between them and slid along Gladio’s knuckles.

“Ten seconds,” Gladio said, sitting up. “Guess you're dead, now.”

“Damn. Someone’ll have to cancel my MMO accounts.”

Gladio held out a hand for Noct, who rolled to his feet on his own. He knew he shouldn't be too upset at his lack of progress--it had been little more than a day since they started--but it still stung. When he was eighteen, Regis Caelum was already second in command of the Lucis crime syndicate, which he’d expanded and honed until it became the all-encompassing Caelum empire that it was today. All Noct could say was that he knew how to step on someone’s foot.

“Hey,” said Gladio. “You're doing great. Really.”

Noct tapped his fingers on his thighs, looking out the window to the yard beyond. “Think they’ll let me step out to smoke?”

“I’ll come with,” Gladio said. He stood, and as Noct dug through his desk for a cigarette, he saw him glance down at his necklace and slip it back under his shirt.

No one was too happy about Noct going outside, but he and Gladio finally sat together under a black and gold gazebo, which was hidden from view of the mansion walls by a row of hedges. Gladio stood upwind, but Noct didn't mind--He had him pegged as one of the whole foods, organic teas kind of guys from the start. It was why he kept taunting him with the smoke—except now that he’d been doing it more, he had a harder time putting the habit down. He propped his legs up on a bench and took a slow drag.

“How’d you end up doing this, anyways?” he asked. “We're you, I don't know, in a gang, or…”

Gladio snorted. “Why’d you think I’d join a gang?” Noct gestured to his own arms, and Gladio’s brows rose. “Oh, right, so tattoos make the man, huh? Nah, I’m kind of like you. My dad ran, uh… You ever heard of the Shields?”

“Sounds like a gang name to me,” Noct said. He smiled at Gladio’s momentary look of outrage. God, he was easy to rile sometimes. “Sorry, sorry. No, I haven't heard of them.”

“We were mercenaries. Your dad’s friend, Cor, he was one of us once. I was a kid, though, so I never really met him.”

Noct frowned. He knew Cor pretty well—or he thought he did. He couldn't remember a time when Cor hadn't been a part of the family. He was about to ask why, when he jumped at the sound of footsteps on the path.

Ignis Scientia appeared at the door to the gazebo, looking unnaturally frazzled. “They found the man who took the photos of you,” he said, before Noct could open his mouth. “Noctis, you need to… It would be best if you could speak to your father on his behalf.”

Noct put out his cigarette. “Why would I—”

“It's Prompto,” Ignis said, in a desperate tone. “Noct, the man who gave the photos to Niflheim was Prompto.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Oh my god.”

The blonde kid known as Prompto slumped between two guards on the second floor, looking like he was about to faint. He had a shock of freckles, his eyeliner was smudged, and he was bleeding from a cut on his nose. When he saw Noctis, he stiffened.

“Noct,” he said. “Dude, I swear I don't know what's going on.”

Gladio was inclined to agree. He could tell by the look of bewildered panic in the blonde’s eyes that he was too flustered to come up with a believable lie if pressed. Noct ignored the guards’ protests and walked up to him, speaking too soft to hear.

“I don't know!” Prompto said. “I lost my camera weeks ago. You were there, it was when we went to see Luna up at the station because Iggy wanted to get those berries from her mom’s house… Oh no, Iggy.”

“I’m right here,” Ignis said, in what Gladio assumed he thought was a comforting tone. He rocked forward as though to go to him, but seemingly changed his mind. Prompto moaned.

“I’m so fucked,” he said.

“You aren't fucked, Prom,” Noct said. "I’m coming with you when you talk to Drautos and Cor, okay?” One of the guards spoke up, but Noct glared them down. “We’ll get this worked out. Maybe if you remember where you left your camera before it was stolen…”

He led the shaking, babbling Prompto into the interrogation room, an arm wrapped firmly around his shoulder. Ignis watched them go, his face unnaturally pale, and tugged at his gloves.

They waited outside for twenty minutes, Ignis pacing restlessly while Gladio read a book on his phone, before the frantic sounds of Prompto pleading his case started to die down. Gladio caught Ignis’ eye, and put his phone away.

“So this Prompto kid,” he said. “I guess you're friends?”

“I can hardly see how that would be relevant to your job, Mr. Amicitia,” Ignis snapped.

“Huh. Okay.” Gladio turned on his phone again.

“A job that wouldn't be necessary, of course,” Ignis continued, despite Gladio’s apparent disinterest, “if Noctis had been assigned a proper guard to begin with.”

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that’s you,” Gladio said. Ignis shot him a dark look.

“Frankly,” Ignis said, “no. I’m simply wondering why Mr. Caelum would have possibly thought an Amicitia could protect anyone.”

Gladio forced his face to remain perfectly still. “Did an alright job the other night, I think.”

“No, the manhole cover did,” Ignis said. “I know, you're talented, but the Caelums know better than anyone that it's only a matter of time before—”

Gladio pushed away from the wall. “You’re worried about your friend,” Gladio said. “I get it. Let's not make it personal.”

Ignis scoffed. “It was personal,” he said, “when an Amicitia lost his nerve and left Noctis’ mother to the Marilith.”

In the silence that followed, the creak of the door opening was painfully loud. 

“Gladio,” Noctis said. Gladio wasn't listening. He was already across the hall, grabbing a handful of Ignis’ shirt. He could barely hear the blood roaring in his own head as he reared back, dodged the blow to his cheek, and struck Ignis square on the jaw.

 

\---

 

“The hell is this?”

Gladio realized, sometime between being thrown into the wall and kicking Ignis so hard that the man doubled over his upraised knee, that starting a fight in an employer’s private home had to be one of the worst mistakes he could have made.

Hands gripped his shoulders, prying him and Ignis apart as they tried to get a few more glancing blows in. Ignis was a fucking demon when provoked—Gladio could feel the beginnings of a bruise spreading along his side—but Gladio saw with some satisfaction that the man’s lip was bleeding sluggishly, and there was a mark already forming on his cheekbone. They glared at each other as Cor Leonis strode between them, his normally impassive face twisted with fury.

“I need an explanation,” he said. 

“This asshole,” Gladio began.

“This beast,” said Ignis.

Cor’s frown twitched, deepening by a fraction, and they both fell silent. 

“Say that again,” he told them, “without the posturing.”

“Ignis said an Amicitia was at the Marilith gang war,” Noctis said, and Gladio winced at the sharpness of his voice. “Said whoever it was lost their nerve.”

Cor raised his eyebrows at Gladio. “And that's all it takes to provoke you?”

Gladio looked away. 

“Ignis.” Cor turned to the man catching his breath in the arms of a crowd of Glaives, taut muscles straining in their grip. “Who told you this?”

“I, ah…” Ignis, Gladio noticed, was having a hard time maintaining eye contact as well. “The other day, in Tenebrae, I met with Ravus. He—”

“Wasn't there,” Cor finished. “Neither were you. No Amicitia I’ve met has lost their nerve. Their reason, maybe,” he said, looking back to Gladio. “Their common sense. Their professionalism.”

“Yes, sir,” Gladio mumbled.

Cor didn't look like he believed the attempt at contrition. “Clarus Amicitia stood his ground against the Marilith that day,” he said. “If he’d run, perhaps it would be _him_ at Regis’ right hand.”

Gladio could hear Ignis’ labored breathing. “But Ravus was certain—”

“We’re done here,” Cor said. “Were either of you foolish enough to cause each other lasting damage? Good. I’ll be speaking to you both in private, when things aren't a fucking shitshow. This won't happen again.”

He strode off, leaving Ignis, Gladio, and a hallway full of amused Glaives to sort themselves out. 

Ignis broke free, touching the cut on his lip. “I…” He closed his eyes for a second. “Apologize for being misled in my assumptions.”

“Get in line,” Gladio said. Ignis’ eyes narrowed. “Yeah, fine. Sorry for the lip, if that makes you feel better.”

“I can't believe you’d listen to Ravus, Specs,” Nyx said. He was one of the men who’d held Gladio back, and was currently using Noctis as an armrest. “That guy’s a weasel. Even his sister thinks so.”

“Yeah, you’d know,” Noct mumbled. Nyx winked.

 

“Admittedly so,” Ignis said. “I should get this seen to.” He gave Gladio one last, unreadable look, and turned for the stairs.

“I think we need to talk, Gladio,” Noct said, batting away Nyx’s arm over his shoulder. Behind him, Prompto was edging out the door, flanked by Drautos. The blonde looked at the gathered men and women of Regis’ guard, quavered, and grabbed Noct by the other shoulder.

“I thought you said it was okay,” he said, in a strangled squeak. Drautos sighed.

“Yes,” he said, in the tone of one who just had to listen to a man sobbing all over his desk for half an hour. “You're fine. We’ll have someone escort you home.”

“Uh.” Prompto stumbled along at his side, giving Noct a wary look over his shoulder as he went. “When you say home, you don't mean metaphorically, right? Like, an actual home, not a soul’s final resting place, not home with the fishes, right? Right?”

Drautos groaned softly as the two of them disappeared down the stairs.

Nyx accompanied Noct and Gladio back to their rooms, on account of making sure that Gladio didn't get jumped by anyone else without Nyx there to watch from the beginning. Noct seemed comfortable with him, enough that he smiled once or twice when Nyx nudged him with a shoulder or whispered about his friend Prompto, and Gladio wasn't surprised when Noct invited him in when they reached his door.

“So long as you tell the boss I was working, sure,” Nyx said, slipping inside. “Mind if I—”

“Text your girlfriend?” Noct finished for him. “Like fucking usual. Go ahead. So what the fuck was that about, Gladio?” He turned on Gladio before he could finish shutting the door, and Gladio took a deep breath.

“The fight, or what started it?”

“You're stalling,” Noct said. “The thing with my mom. And that Clarus guy.”

Gladio pushed the door shut with his shoulder and leaned against it. Nyx was in the corner, texting furiously, but Gladio could tell that he was keenly listening in. “My dad used to work for the Caelums,” he said. “Back in the day. He was there when the Marilith gang ambushed your family.”

Noct waited, arms crossed. He was clenching his teeth, the skin of his cheeks drawn tight. 

“I don't know much, alright?” Gladio sat in one of the squashed couches. “I was a kid. All I knew was Dad took a hit meant for—” Regis, he thought, but didn't say it. “Someone else. His heart gave out on the way to the hospital.”

“Shit,” Noctis said, softly. “I don't remember…”

“Don't want you to,” Gladio said. “I heard that fight was a massacre. Can't imagine actually being there.”

He watched Noctis carefully. He couldn't have been more than eight when it happened. Gladio had a hard enough time at eleven, sitting in their nice family home with his little sister on his lap while a man in a fine suit told them that their father had died in an accident. An accident, he said, sitting in a home belonging to a line of fighters going back centuries, to children whose grandparents and great grandparents had all died too young to see their own kids get married. In the Amicitia family, there were no accidents.

“Then why’d Ignis say—”

“The fight was a mess, okay?” Gladio ran his finger under the chain of his necklace. “Dad was supposed to be there to protect your family. Protect you. Dying on the job, I guess that counts as a failure.”

“It shouldn't.” Gladio almost opened his mouth to say something sardonic in reply, then stopped himself. Noct sat on the arm of the couch. “Your dad… Was he bald? Wore a lot of black?”

“Maybe.”

Noct slid onto the couch proper, his leg touching Gladio’s knee. “He, um. I think he helped me get off the slide. We were at a park, before, and I froze at the top, so he talked me down.” He gave Gladio a pained look. “Sorry. That's all I remember.”

Gladio could almost see it. His dad was a wall of muscle, the kind of person who got stopped when he was out with his kids because people thought he’d stolen them from someone else. But Gladio knew him as someone who would listen intently to Iris’ excitable babbling, who turned lightning storms into something hilarious and harmless, who knew just what to say when everything seemed to be going wrong. It was a relief Gladio didn't know he needed, finding out that Noct’s only memory of him was of something like that, not of the fight that took him. 

“Thanks,” Gladio said. “Really.”

Noctis reached out and placed his hand on Gladio’s knee, and when he looked down at him, Gladio felt a rush of fear constrict his chest.

Nyx snorted. They both looked up at him, and he set down his phone.

“Sorry,” he said. “I was asking about Ravus.”

Noctis rolled his eyes. “So, what, is he someone important?” Gladio asked, secretly thankful for the chance to change the subject. Noct's hand on his leg felt hot enough to burn, and Gladio felt odd, pulled loose and off center.

“He wishes,” said Noct. “He’s one of Dad’s people in Tenebrae, has been ever since Niflheim took out the police force there. His sister’s a friend of mine.”

“More than that, in his opinion,” Nyx said.

“Yeah, you're welcome.” Noct caught Gladio’s curious look and shrugged. “Luna, his sister, we used to live next to each other. But ever since she started dating Nyx, I’ve been her cover story. Out on a date? No way, she was helping me with my math homework. Up all night with Nyx? Totally lost track of time with a movie marathon at my place. It's exhausting.”

“And appreciated,” Nyx said. “I’d have half the police force of Tenebrae after my ass if Ravus found out some low-life thug was dating his innocent little sister.” He grinned. “His words, not mine.”

Gladio shook his head. “Never get romantically involved,” he said. “That's rule one.”

“For you,” Nyx said. Noct, who was staring at Gladio curiously, turned aside, a flush of pink rising up his neck. 

They stayed there for most of the afternoon. Nyx finally set his phone down when Noct offered to teach Gladio how to cheat at poker, and the three of them played for imaginary stakes that rose to the thousands. Nyx showed Gladio a picture of Luna: Blonde, with a square chin and a knowing smirk. She was nice enough, Gladio admitted, but not his type.

“So what is?” Noct asked. His cold blue eyes held Gladio’s. Gladio felt that sting of fear again, and pushed it down.

“Not sure yet,” he said. Nyx looked from him to Noctis, brows raised, and excused himself on account of actually having work to do. Gladio flipped him off on the way out, and Noct laughed.

“So you _can_ have fun,” he said, and Gladio cuffed him lightly on the back of the head.

“Not part of the job description.”

“Yeah?” Noct tilted his head. “Neither is teaching me how to fight. Or getting the shit kicked out of you by Ignis.”

“Hey, hold on, you little—”

Noct cackled, and Gladio lunged for him. Neither of them gave much thought to the fact that Cor hadn't made good on his promise of an official reprimand. Neither of them noticed the sudden quiet that had fallen over the mansion, the silent activity going on in the yard outside. With the windows drawn and Noct laughing hysterically in a light chokehold, they couldn't see the single black car parked in the driveway, bearing the red crest of the syndicate of Niflheim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \----  
> \----  
> \----  
> Extra bonus:   
> "Look," Prompto said, drumming his hands on the dashboard of Drautos' car. "I know you probably have like, rope and tarp and shit in the trunk and we're right by the canal."
> 
> Drautos gave Prompto a weary look. "We don't dump people in the canal, kid."
> 
> "Oh." Prompto brightened. "Oh! That's good. That's great. Ha. Of course you wouldn't."
> 
> "We set them on fire." Prompto's head turned slowly away from the window. Drautos shrugged. "It's Regis' thing. What, your buddy never told you?"
> 
> Prompto's voice came out in a low rasp. "Please don't set me on fire."
> 
> "Kid, I'm not gonna... Shit, don't... I'm taking you home, okay, we're almost there."
> 
> "Oh my god, my house is _flammable._ "
> 
> "We're not..." Drautos pressed his lips together, then slowly patted Prompto on the shoulder. "Your house is fine. You're fine. Stop crying on the upholstery."
> 
> Prompto nodded tearfully. Drautos patted him on the shoulder one more time for good measure, and his car eased to a stop outside Prompto's small apartment. Drautos gave it a critical look. Wood and plaster, probably full of asbestos judging by the wear on the wall facing the lawn. The kid was right: Definitely flammable. 
> 
> "I'm a dog walker," Prompto said. "I don't have hush money."
> 
> "Fuck's sake, kid, just get out of the car."


	6. Chapter 6

When Gladio was finally called down to Cor’s office, Noctis was asked to accompany him. He slunk out reluctantly, a shadow at Gladio’s heels, shoulders hunched in the same pose he used when Gladio first dragged him out of the canal.

“You don't think this is about the whole Ignis thing?” Noct said, as they made their way down the stairs.Gladio raised an eyebrow.

“What, you're actually concerned?” he asked. “About me?” He splayed a hand over his chest, and Noctis pushed him with a shoulder.

“Don't put words in my mouth. Just saying, it’d be a stupid thing to get fired over.”

Gladio shook his head. “You wanted me gone a few days ago, remember?” He ran his fingers along the fabric wallpaper as they passed. There were little emblems on every other stripe, a woman holding a skull with diamonds flanking her. He wondered if it had anything to do with the woman on the Caelum crest.

“Things change,” Noctis said. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away. “I guess.”

Cor’s office was small, a sectioned-off bedroom with the furniture stripped and a worn desk shoved into the corner like an afterthought. Paperwork piled up on the desk in a heap that threatened to spill over onto the floor, and there was an ancient laptop clunky enough to be mistaken for a briefcase at first glance. Cor didn't look up when they entered, but both Gladio and Noctis stopped at the door. Cor was a grim man at the best of times, but his face then was darker than Gladio had ever seen it, even when he and Ignis were trading blows.

“Sit,” Cor said. Noct pulled out the only chair and fell into it. Gladio propped his arm up on the top of the seat, his hand dangling close to the gelled-up spikes of Noctis’ hair.

“I won't mince words,” Cor said. Noct smirked, and Gladio kicked the leg of the chair to warn him against what was probably a snide remark. “You know that your friend Prompto was taken in for questioning today.”

“Yeah,” Noct said, “but he’s innocent.”

Cor’s expression didn't so much as flicker. “He said he was in Tenebrae when his camera was stolen. Niflheim territory.”

“Everything’s Niflheim territory,” Noctis mumbled.

“That might be true soon enough,” said Cor. “As soon as we sent that friend of yours home, we received a messenger from the Niffs. He brought this,” he said, dropping a small, silver camera on his desk, “and an ultimatum.”

“That's Prompto’s,” Noct whispered.

“What are the terms?” Gladio asked. Cor hesitated, and his gaze lit on Noctis, who had leaned forward to examine the camera. He had such delicate features, Gladio noticed, all angles under skin so soft it gave him a rounded look. He peered at the bottom of the camera and scraped at a label.

“It's Noctis,” Gladio said.

Noctis sat up, fingers tight around the camera. “What?”

“The messenger,” Cor said, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “said either we hand over Noctis, or Niflheim declares war. Regis said to give us a week to think it over.”

Noct snorted. “Are they insane? Dad would give up the family before he…” He stopped. Cor stood there, hands on his desk, unmoving. “Okay, here’s the part where you say, No, Noctis, he’d never do that, and tell me how Dad plans to set their base of operations on fire in the morning.”

Cor straightened. “We will have to move you to a safe house until negotiations are done.”

“And Dad’ll set the Niffs on fire,” Noct said, “and it won't be a me-or-the-family thing anymore.”

“I’ll have a set of coordinates sent to you,” Cor told Gladio. “This goes beyond the terms of your contract.”

“It's no problem,” Gladio said. 

“He can't give up his entire operation for me,” Noct said. “The Nifs’ll just kill most of them and start over. I’m one person, he can't...”

“You are his son,” Cor said, and Noct pressed his lips together, looking down. “I take it you haven't forgotten.” He turned back to Gladio. “Be ready to ride out at any moment. You’ll have a small team with you, trusted people. For now, it’d be best to rest up.”

“I want to see Dad,” Noct said.

“I don't think that’s advisable, Noctis.”

“God damn it!” Noct threw himself out of his chair and made for the door. “Gladio. Come on.”

Gladio gave Cor a reproachful look and followed after Noct before he could come up with some clever escape plan on his own. He had the same wild, furious look in his eyes that Gladio saw when they first met, and he was starting to understand why. He was protected at the expense of others, prevented from dirtying his own hands while his father paid guards to do it for him, kept in the dark and expected to be grateful for it. For Noctis, who grilled Gladio with a curiosity bordering on hunger, it must have been torture. 

“I think your dad’s trying to get around this,” Gladio said, to Noct’s stiff, retreating back. “We’ll have to wait it out.”

“Yeah, it's what I’m best at,” Noct mumbled. He swung open his bedroom door. “Look, I’m tired. I don't… I don't wanna talk right now.”

“Fair enough.” Gladio went to his own room, but kept the door between them open. He sat down on his bed and pulled out one of his paperbacks while Noctis kicked things around in the room beyond. 

“Hey.” Gladio looked up, and saw Noct leaning against the connecting door. “Your dad.”

Gladio held down a sigh. “Yeah?”

“Would he be okay with it? You, you know, carrying on the family business?”

Gladio drew up his knees. “Honestly? He thought I’d be an artist. Had me enrolled in a charter school and everything. My sister’s the one he thought would pick up the mantle. Three years old, and she kept bangin’ her hands on the glass where the knives were kept.”

“What's she doing now?”

Gladio grinned. “High school. I insisted. At least one of us gets to finish.” He turned back to his book. “Try to sleep, Noct. It’s a shit situation, but it'll look better when you aren't worn out.”

“Yes, mother.”

“And brush your fucking teeth.”

Noct laughed, and Gladio smiled to himself, flipping through his book to the page where he’d left off.

Close to midnight, Gladio was just drifting off when he got a notification on his phone. Drautos, Cor’s partner and leader of the Glaives, had the coordinates of the safe house ready. Of course they had to be delivered by word of mouth instead of a text. Couldn't let people fucking sleep. Gladio got up, checked to make sure Noct wasn't about to climb out the window on his bedsheets, and opened the hall door to find a gangly redhead waiting for him.

“I’ll be watching him while you're with the captain,” the man said. “Shouldn't be long.”

“No Nyx?” Gladio asked. The man shrugged.

“Out on assignment, I guess.” He lifted up his phone, showing Gladio that his orders to guard the room came from Drautos himself. “No one tells me nothing.”

Gladio tucked his phone in his pocket and gave the man a lazy salute, and tried to push the light-headed sleeplessness from his mind as he padded towards Drautos’ rooms.

 

\---

 

“Hey, prince charming.” 

Noct groaned, blinking into the bright glare of his bedside lamp. There was a pale blur in front of him, shaking his arm. “Not now,” he said, and reached for his pillow.

“Tell that to your bodyguard,” the guy at his bedside told him. Noct pushed himself up by an elbow, and the blur sharpened to reveal Tredd, one of Drautos’ men, holding a bag over his shoulder. 

“Whassit?”

Tredd laughed. “Yeah, okay. We got a five minute window to get you to that safe house, Noctis. Time’s wasting.”

“What, already?” Noct pushed hair out of his eyes. “But Dad, I have to see him first.”

“Not yet,” Tredd said. “Come on, I even packed for you.” He shook out the bag. 

Noct rolled out of bed. “What about Gladio?” 

Tredd jerked his head towards the door. “Already in the car. He insisted on going in first.”

“Sounds right,” Noct said. He pulled on his jeans, but kept his night shirt on. If they already packed up for him, he could just change at the safe house. Tredd waved him through the bedroom door, and Noct followed.

There weren't many guards posted on the second floor. Just a few of Drautos’ old buddies, guys Noct never really got the chance to know like Ignis or Nyx. Noct could hear the murmur of voices in his dad’s study, but that wasn't anything new. His father seemed to have time for everyone these days, so long as they weren't related.

Sure enough, there was a car waiting for him out front, with one of the dummy license plates the Glaives liked to use. Noct took the bag from Tredd and opened the back door, slipping inside.

“Hey, Gladio,” he said, to the dark figure on the other seat. “Where do you think they’re...”

A cold ring of metal pressed against his cheek, and Noctis fell back, scrambling for a door that was already jammed shut behind him. The gun on his cheek tilted upwards, and there was a faint click as the safety was flipped down.

“You will be _silent,_ ” said Ravus Nox Fleuret, leaning into the light of the Caelum family home. “And you will be still, or the war will start here.”

 

\---

 

Gladio, sitting in on the most pointless meeting he’d been subject to in the past five years, turned with an almost grateful look at the man who burst through the door.

“Sir,” the man said. “Crowe’s been neutralized, and the—” he saw Gladio and blinked, and his demeanor changed slightly. His shoulders straightened, and his voice took on a practiced air. “Noctis is taken.”

Gladio stood. Behind him, Drautos remained seated at his desk. Another guard came in, gun drawn.

“A car with a false plate was seen loitering outside the gate,” the man said. “A man not belonging to the Caelums was found escorting Noctis inside.”

“What about the guard on his door?” Gladio asked. “The redhead?”

“Tredd?” The man grimaced. “Yeah, we found him outside. Killed by this.”

He held up a gun, which Gladio recognized as having come from his own arsenal.

“Timestamp on the security footage says it happened an hour ago,” he said.

“Bullshit,” Gladio said. “I was there an hour ago, and Noct was fine.”

“That would be your gun, wouldn't it, Gladiolus?” Drautos’ voice was calm, too calm. Gladio looked from Drautos to the guard, and reached for the knife he kept at his back.

Drautos was on him in seconds. Gladio prided himself on his hand to hand combat. Hell, he’d ripped a fucking pillar out of the ground, once, when he was cornered in a shitty little side room in a casino near Altissia, and took out half a gang unarmed. But Drautos was like a whirlwind, decades of training and expertise running up against Gladio’s measly handful of years, and he didn't have a chance.

He was down in a chair in the center of the room fifteen minutes later, zip ties wound tight around his wrists while Drautos’ men tore apart his room in the floor above. He’d seen a printed photo of the kidnapping from the security tapes and wasn't buying it: The image of Noctis and that Tredd guy seemed real enough, but timestamps could be faked. Drautos, meanwhile, was staring at a phone which definitely did not look like Gladio’s, reading aloud text messages to a contact in Niflheim that Gladio never made.

“I’m an independent contractor,” Gladio said, in an attempt to reassert reason. “I ain't involved in your gang war.”

“Really?” Drautos said. “This certainly seems to be your private phone. Hm. Who’s the girl?”

Gladio felt rage crystallize like ice in his veins. 

Drautos flipped the phone around, revealing a picture of Gladio and his sister trying to mimic a pose from one of her favorite shows. “Not much resemblance, but… She does have Clarus’ smile.”

“You worked with my father,” Gladio said, as he fought against the urge to knock the phone out of his hand, to fight his way out of the mansion itself. Iris. He was talking about _Iris_ —

“Now and then,” Drautos said. “Back in the day.” He slipped the phone in his pocket.

“Then you know that I wouldn't cross my employers,” Gladio told him.

“I knew your father,” Drautos said. “Not you. You’ll remain here, under guard, until Regis has time to see you.” 

“While Noctis is killed,” Gladio said.

Drautos smiled thinly. “Is that a threat, or a promise?” He stepped out of the room, leaving Gladio alone with two armed guards.

Gladio had to think fast. The redhead in the hall had shown him orders from Drautos: That was real. And Drautos hadn't told Cor yet, or he would’ve charged in by now. This all put Drautos right at the top of the list of the most likely suspects. The moment Gladio was interrogated, it would all come out. Unless…

One of the guards near the door cocked his gun. 

Ah. Right. It would be pretty impossible to get the truth out of a dead man, wouldn't it? And if Gladio was killed trying to escape, well, that confirmed his guilt right there.

“Motherfuckers,” Gladio hissed, and gripped the back of his chair with both hands as he went down. The gunshot was deafening in the small room, and Gladio took advantage of that to bend down, swinging the chair into the side of the first guard. They both went down, but not before Gladio kicked out at the second guard, who wasn't so quick on the uptake. He only had a few seconds before they could recover their weapons, if nothing went wrong he could—

The door opened. The light from the hallway made all three of them curse, and Gladio looked up into the stunned face of Nyx, who was holding his gun in his right hand.

“Traitors,” Gladio managed to say, kicking the second guard in the windpipe. “Took Noct.”

He didn't have time to convince Nyx, not properly. Sure, they knew each other, but it had only been a few days, and loyalty to the Caelums came before any tentative friendship with a mercenary. When Nyx leveled his gun, Gladio grit his teeth against the pain of impact, waiting for the worst.

Nyx’s gun fired twice.

The guard struggling at Gladio’s feet went limp. Gladio examined Nyx’s face as he knelt at his side, but could see no regret there, no change in expression.

“Sorry to be so late,” Nyx said. He cut Gladio’s zip ties with a heavy knife. “They took out one of my friends before I found out what was going on.”

“So they weren’t lying,” Gladio said. “Noct is gone.” Nyx only nodded.

“It's all gone to hell.” He helped Gladio up. “I’m sorry, Gladio. I gotta get to Regis before Drautos catches on. You find the kid.”

“Right.” Gladio bent down and took the gun from the man at his feet. “Come back alive.”

Nyx grinned, all teeth. “Have a little faith, Gladiolus.” He slapped him on the back and ran off down the hall. 

Gladio took the other fork in the hall, heading for the side exit. He passed one or two people on the way, but either they weren't in Drautos’ pocket or were too distracted by the gunshots from earlier to pay him any mind. In a minute, they’d regret it, but Gladio counted his blessings where he could find them. 

He made it to the street just as an alarm began to ring in the mansion halls. The night was verging close to morning, the stars gone grey against the haze of the city, and Gladio was considering how exactly he could climb the spiked gate when an all-too familiar man ran out of the garden, knives glinting at his hip.

“You're looking for Noctis,” Ignis Scientia said, speaking slow around the bandaged cut on his lip. 

“I don't have time for this,” Gladio growled, raising his gun.

“I know.” Ignis held his hands up. “I know. But if what Nyx is saying is right, and the Niffs took him, I can help.”

Gladio paused. Entire seconds went by, each one ringing a death knell for Noctis, alone in enemy hands. 

“Fine,” he said, lowering his gun. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back in his apartment, Prompto is wrapped up in a giant comforter in front of his computer, watching a tiny orc character idle in a public server while he waits for Noct to sign on.


	7. Chapter 7

Noctis woke to the sound of fingers tapping on metal: An erratic, rhythm-less drumming that grated on his nerves like a clock gone out of sync. He forced his eyes open, and tasted the dull, coppery sting of blood at the roof of his mouth.

He tried to remember how he’d gotten there. He’d climbed into the car, and then... and then Ravus, of all people, had been there, Ravus with a gun…

Noct threw himself into instant alertness, heart thudding a loud pulse in his ears. He jerked against what felt like metal cuffs holding his arms and legs to a sturdy chair, and he looked up to see Ravus watching him, long white hair smoothed back over his shoulders.

“Nice to see you again, Noctis,” Ravus said, with the smug, slight smile that Noct always hated. “I’m sorry to say that my sister isn't here to see you, but she’s preparing for the trip to see your father. For the treaty signing, you know, between Niflheim and the Caelums.”

Noct squinted. “I’m missing something here,” he said. “Thought we had a week. And why would I care if Luna—”

“Yes, well, now we have an incentive to speed the process along,” Ravus said. “Truly, you _are_ a pathetic excuse for an heir to your father’s empire. Years of fucking around in clubs while you pretend to have eyes for the most talented officer in Tenebrae…”

“Yeah, I’m still lost,” Noct said. “I mean, the clubbing, that's not a secret. But what officer? Who would I ever—”

Ravus slammed his hand down on the desk behind him. “Lunafreya!” His voice echoed, low and gravel-toned. “Is it bad enough that the Caelums used Tenebrae as their own personal police force, only to throw them to Niflheim as soon as we wore out our usefulness? Is it bad enough that your father dares to use me, me! As his errand boy, when it was him who left my mother to die on the street? Is it enough to have to lower myself to smile every time I see your sickening, privileged face—”

“It's not a really good smile, though,” Noct said. Ravus pushed off the desk.

“But no,” Ravus snarled. “You had to take my sister from me.”

Realization dawned. 

“Oh, man,” Noct said, secretly cursing Nyx and his clandestine sexting to the lowest levels of hell. “You are… You are so fucked up. This isn't like, an Oedipal thing? Wait, no, that's with moms. What's the word for wanting to fuck your sist—” 

Noct had to admit he was asking for that one. His ears rang with the force of the blow, and he tipped over in his chair, striking the hard metal floor. Ravus’ white boots—God, what kind of pretentious asshole wore white leather?—strode into view, and one foot was placed heavily on the side of his face.

“So what I’m getting here,” Noct said, as Ravus’ heel ground into the floor by his teeth, “is you _don’t_ wanna fuck your—”

Ravus kicked him in the chest, and Noct wheezed, unable to curl in on himself. “I’m astounded,” Ravus said, “that you’ve managed to survive to eighteen.”

“Yeah,” Noct gasped. “It's a goddamn miracle.”

Ravus stepped back so he could lean against the desk again. He made no move to help Noct up, and Noct didn't see any point in wiggling around on a chair too heavy to be righted on its own. 

“So you’re trying to take us down,” Noctis said, “because I _might_ be dating your sister?”

Ravus frowned. “You deny it?”

“Ravus.” Noctis tried to breathe through a strange, fluttery pain in his lungs. “If you knew how… seriously gay I am…”

Ravus frowned. “My men have seen you out with women.”

“Have they seen me fuck them?” Noctis asked. He took a breath as Ravus moved forward again, but it all burst out of him when those hideous boots stepped down on his throat.

“I thought I’d drag you out into the courtyard of your home,” Ravus said, pushing harder, “and kill you in front of your father, just as my mother died in front of me. But you know, bringing your corpse there would be just as effective…”

“That's enough of _that,_ I believe,” said a low, smooth voice, just as black spots began to form in Noctis’ vision. “You can't let your emotions run away with you, dear Ravus.”

“No.” Ravus’ foot raised, and Noct let in sobbing gasps of air. “No, I did this. This is _my_ interrogation, my plan—”

“And you're doing so well.” Noctis couldn't see the newcomer at first—Just dark boots, a black trench-coat, some sort of long scarf trailing down his back. Then the man came closer, around the desk, and he kneeled down to hold a large, calloused hand to Noct’s chin. He tilted his head up and to the side, and Noct got a glimpse of a smiling face, soft waves of auburn hair that glowed almost mauve in the overhead light. 

“But this,” the man said, “isn't about your personal desire for revenge, Ravus. When it comes to the Caelums—” Here the man laughed, and Noctis felt the first shiver of fear roll through him, tight and terrible. “This is, and always has been, about _family.”_

 

\---

 

When Noct was little, he used to be afraid of his father’s study. There were always tall, scarred people wandering around in there, false smiles forced over their true faces, plying his dad with drinks and money and little white packets that were locked away in a safe Noctis couldn't reach. There were strange statues from overseas, real masks shaped like monsters, lamps that made the shadows of the study go long and deep. But worst of all were the photos. They were everywhere, on every wall, on every desk and end table. Framed, glossy photos of his mom and dad with their friends, smiling or frowning or making ridiculous poses. Noct’s friend at school, Prompto, had photos on his walls as well, but the people in them were never holding guns, and the photos were always whole and untouched, safe behind glass.

In every photo in Noct’s house, there were holes.

Sometimes there were two, even five or six—neat little burn marks over the faces of people who weren't around anymore. Just like there were names no one was allowed to say, or years no one talked about. Noct used to try and make out their faces behind the warped ink and paper, but they always looked vaguely inhuman. Headless creatures standing among the living. 

And then there was the one whose face was burned out so completely that the photos he featured in were crisped and brown. A tall man standing next to Noct’s mother on her wedding day, his face burned off to the neck, only the tip of his hat remaining. Someone holding Noct’s dad in one arm as they sat on a boat, the empty space of the frame blooming out like mold from behind the ragged scar of the photograph. A man leaning over Noctis as he lay in his crib at the hospital, nothing but ash.

Noct used to have nightmares about that faceless man. His mother would hold him and smile, tell him that he was just a ghost, and ghosts weren't real. Ghosts couldn't speak, couldn't touch. Couldn't harm.

Noct had never taken his mother for a liar.

 

\---

 

“It's so good to meet you at last, Noctis,” said the man in the trench-coat. He tipped his hat as Ravus retreated to a safe distance, back to the wall, and Noct rolled his eyes.

“Feeling’s far from mutual, I promise,” Noct said. The man tsked and nudged his chin with the toe of his boot. Noct shivered at the cool touch of metal plated over the leather.

“Hardly diplomatic,” the man said. “Not exactly behavior befitting of a Caelum. You don't have much of Regis in you, do you? Perhaps the nose.” 

Pain flared white-hot as the bones at the bridge of his nose cracked under the force of the newcomer’s well-aimed kick. Noctis heard himself cry out, his voice echoing against the metal walls of the room, and saw Ravus stare at him impassively from behind the swirling black jacket of the stranger. 

“His hair,” the man said, and Noctis didn't bother to keep his voice down as the roots of his hair were grabbed in one hand while the other held the arm of his chair, dragging him upright. 

The man’s smile was mild, as though he were engaging in light banter over breakfast, not beating the shit out of a man half his age. He let go of Noct’s hair and trailed a finger down his cheek. Noct, too busy trying to breathe through the pain in his chest and the blood pouring from his nose, couldn't flinch away.

“Your jawline,” the man said, almost in a crooning tone. He held his hand back, and fitted a metal band around the knuckles of his fist.

“No.” Noct tried to push himself back. “No, please. Don't, don't do it, please—”

“Turn your head to the side, there's a good boy.”

Noct hunched down, bracing himself. The man gazed at him a moment longer, and took off the band.

“No,” he said. “I do believe your jaw is your own. Lucky you.” He leaned down, and covered Noct’s bleeding, broken nose with one large hand. “There. If you look hard enough, you can almost see her. Aulea.”

“How the hell—” Noct saw something dark flash in the man’s eyes, and became suddenly very aware of the light touch over his nose. 

“Do go on,” the man said. Noct remained silent, and he pushed down, hard enough to make him gasp. “Don't keep me in suspense.”

Noct barely recognized his own voice. “How’d you know my mom?”

“How did I…” The man sighed. “Oh, my _dear,_ I despair at the inattentiveness of youth. Don't you see the resemblance?” He tilted his head, gazing down at Noctis with a little smile that made Noct’s stomach lurch. He’d seen it before, he knew. It was like looking in the mirror to find someone else’s face plastered over his own, the shape the same, but everything else gone twisted and wrong.

He remembered his mother urging him to leave the playground on the day she died. Her dark brown hair was tied up tight enough to straighten her wavy curls, and when she smiled at him, her eyes narrowed, a habit that Noct picked up unconsciously on his own.

The man standing in front of Noctis wore his mother’s smile, and closed his mother’s eyes, scrunching up the bridge of an unfamiliar nose.

“Well met,” he said, and rose to his full height. “My name is Ardyn. Ardyn Izunia. But you, my boy, may call me _Uncle.”_

Ravus hissed, and Noct glanced his way. His eyes were wide, his lips parted—In fear? Why would _Ravus_ be afraid?

“Don't have an uncle,” Noct said. Ardyn raised his hand from Noct’s face, and Noct carefully tilted his chin up, breathing shallowly through his mouth. 

“That's what Regis would like you to believe,” Ardyn said. He raised a hand. “You may leave us, Ravus.”

“Or he can stay,” Noct said, as Ravus turned to go. “ _He can stay._ ” He shot Ravus a look of panic—Sure, Ravus thought he was dating Luna, sure, technically he wanted to kill him, but he wouldn't leave him alone with Ardyn, would he? Even Ravus—

The door clicked behind Ravus as he left, and Ardyn rolled his shoulders. 

“There,” he said. “It's been some time, hasn't it? Since your father took the Lucis syndicate from me, all those years ago. Tell me, does he still make people disappear? Erase their names from his ledgers?”

Noctis didn't answer. Of course he did. That was business. Everyone knew that.

“I didn't want to disappoint him by showing my face too soon,” Ardyn said. “He tried so hard to be a good brother-in-law. Why, when I gave him his first job, he told me, Ardyn, I—”

“You like to hear yourself talk, huh?” Noct winced before the words were even out. It was like the fear had taken over, holding the reins of his mind while pain seared through the rest of his awareness.

“There we go again with the disrespect,” Ardyn said, and placed a foot on the edge of Noct’s chair, between his knees. He pushed, and Noct fell, hitting the back of his head on the floor so hard that he felt the tendons in his neck strain. Ardyn stepped close and listened to the rasp of Noct’s breathing for a minute, still smiling.

“I thought I might let Ravus kill you, you know,” Ardyn said. “Such a deplorable temper on the boy, wouldn't you agree? But I like your spark, Noctis. You aren't nearly as _serious_ as that father of yours. No, I think I might keep you.”

Noct felt himself flinch, despite his attempt to keep himself as still as possible. Ardyn chuckled.

“After all,” he said. “I had to stand by and watch old Regis take over the Caelums these past, oh… nearly twenty years, now. It's only fair that you do the same. A tradition, you could say.”

Noct tried to think of what twenty years of being held captive by Ardyn would entail. His mind rebelled. No, he would have to get himself alone with Ravus first. He would say something about Luna, maybe, get him riled enough to lose his temper. If Ardyn wanted to use him to make some sort of sick, slow revenge on the Caelums, the least Noct could do was die before it could happen.

That wasn't exactly the most comforting thought, but with Ardyn there, smiling softly while he talked about _keeping_ him… He didn't have much of a choice. And it wasn't like anyone knew where he was. Even Gladio—

Noctis closed his eyes. Gladio was probably dead. He had to be. If he were alive, he would've found Noct on the way there, or he’d’ve broken in, laying waste to the Nifs in the rooms beyond. He wouldn't leave him there. Not Gladio.

“Ah, but look at the time,” Ardyn said. He bent down, deftly unlocking the cuffs around Noct’s ankles. “Aldercapt—that's your new boss, Noctis, a truly charming man—said that we must be at the Caelums at dawn to deliver the terms. And I don't know about you, nephew, but I wouldn't miss a reunion with your dear old dad for the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noctis "Now that I'm trapped in enemy hands, this is the perfect time for sass" Lucis Caelum, everybody.


	8. Chapter 8

Ignis Scientia was an excellent driver. He had full control over the wheel at all times, could brake on a dime, and had an uncanny eye for sudden shifts in traffic and alleys that could just fit one of the Caelum company cars. His mastery of the road would make the most jaded racecar driver weep, and harried cops wave him on with a nod of respect.

This didn't make him any less terrifying.

Gladio hung on to the window handle while Ignis swerved the car in a U-turn, tires squealing to the tune of frantic horns being pressed around them. Ignis was watching the townhouses flicking past, muttering under his breath as though he were reading hidden street signs.

Behind them, there was a crack as the bulletproof window started to give. Gladio groaned and rolled his window down.

“We’re close!” Ignis shouted over the wind, as Gladio checked the angle through the side mirror and fired a shot towards the blue and grey car on their heels. He missed the mark, and shot again, spiderwebbing the glass of their windshield. “They wouldn't be trying to herd us away if we weren’t!”

“You think?” Gladio shouted. 

“Buck up,” Ignis said. “This means he’s still alive!”

Or it meant that members of Niflheim had spotted a Caelum car in their territory, and Noctis was already lost, dead in the back of the car in which he’d been taken. Gladio could taste bile in his throat at the thought of it: Noctis, his skin ashen, with the purpling color of pooling blood beneath, his fidgeting fingers and quirking lips gone still. The fear that he’d felt at the touch of Noct’s hands was burning through him now, itching in his skin as he fired twice more into the window. The man behind the wheel had to duck his head out the side just to steer, and Gladio grabbed the wheel from Ignis as Ignis pulled out his gun, blinked into the dark, and struck the driver on his second shot.

“Shit,” Gladio said, as Ignis took the wheel again. The car behind them disappeared around a corner, and Ignis’ smile was cold and just a little smug. “Nice one.”

“Thanks. Not so bad yourself. Now, to find where they were trying to keep us away…”

“Looked like a residential neighborhood,” Gladio said, lurching as Ignis abruptly stopped, wheeled around, and drove down a side street that Gladio wasn't sure could be counted as an actual road. One of the side mirrors popped off, and Gladio eased away from the door.

“Niflheim likes to squat in townhouses,” Ignis said. “Their second in command, Izunia, I hear he likes the aesthetic.” 

“You know a lot about the Nifs, don't you?” Gladio asked. Ignis huffed loudly.

“Don't start, Mr. Amicitia. It’s my job to know. I’m the liaison between the Caelums and our agents in the Nif-owned Tenebraean police, and my loyalty--”

“I get it,” Gladio said. “Let's not have a repeat of earlier, yeah?”

“Gladly.” Ignis frowned. “You know we’ll likely be followed by Regis’ men as well? At the moment… unless Nyx and his allies can convince him otherwise… you’re the mastermind behind his kidnapping. We were hoping that my coming along would assuage suspicion, but…”

“Yeah, I know.” Gladio checked behind them for the flicker of light on darkened windshields. “But what matters is finding Noct.”

Ignis pressed his lips together. “Drautos’ actions give you plenty of reasons to quit us entirely.”

“Just keep your eyes peeled,” Gladio said. Ignis, after a second or two of examining Gladio with a closed, curious expression, turned back to the street.

 

\---

 

When Noct was dragged out into the street, he could just see a flash of endless dark blue over the unlit townhouse windows before Ardyn pushed his head down.

“Thought you said dawn,” Noct said, and Ardyn shrugged, a graceful roll of his shoulders.

“Certainly,” he said, “but I can't have you bleeding all over my floor in the meantime. Ravus, if you will.”

Ravus leered at Noctis and pressed a button on a set of car keys in his hand. Down the road, the trunk to a hideous mauve and white car popped up.

“Motherfu—” Noct’s muttered curse was cut off in a grunt of pain as Ardyn backhanded him, the stones in the rings on his left hand slicing along Noct’s cheek. He staggered, and Ardyn held him steady by his hair.

“I don't know what slipshod parenting led to your terrible lack of manners,” Ardyn said, in a casual tone that made Noct shudder in his grip, “But there will be none of that under _my_ roof.”

Noct looked him in the eye. If he played his cards right, he could end this right there. “Can there be fucking?” He asked. “Cause there's this girl in the Nox Fleurets, right, with that bottle blonde look—”

Right on cue, Ravus was on him, bearing him to the ground with a knee on his stomach. Noct laughed at the pressure of a hand over his neck, and he brought his bound hands up to Ravus’ straining arms.

“Hey,” he gasped, in a thin voice. “Don't. We’re _brothers._ ”

Ravus snarled, and the pressure tightened for one brief moment before it was taken away. Ardyn pushed Ravus aside as though he were nothing, and lifted Noctis to his feet by his collar.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I quite like _you.”_

 

“He’s talking about getting you fitted for a suit,” Ravus said sometime later, leaning against the trunk of the car while Noct tried to remember how to breathe. “Personally, I don't see the point. You’ll be dead as soon as he tires of you, and he’ll tire of you as soon as he gets to know you.”

Noct could only hope so. He pushed against the bindings around his ankles and wrists, and tried to spot light through the thin crack that ran along the inside of the trunk.

“Your father deserves what's coming to him,” Ravus continued. “But I’m not sure if I approve of making some sort of _doll_ out of...”

The scarf wound tight around Noct’s mouth was thin enough that he could breathe, but only just. Noct could feel his lungs rattling with every inhale, and was so focused on getting enough air that he didn't feel the weight lift from the car until it was too late.

“Oh, Ravus.” That voice was accented, but it didn't have the exaggerated vowels of Ardyn. Where had Noct heard it before? 

“Ignis?” Ravus’ voice was tight. “What are—” There was a soft, organic sound, and a hiss of breath. 

Ignis? 

“You didn't have to kill him,” someone whispered. Noct opened his eyes wide. “He may not have been on their—”

“You saw him,” said another voice. Noct felt a rush of hope run through him at last—That was Gladio, it had to be. “Sure looked like Noct.”

Noct kicked out, striking the side of the trunk. He heard whispering, felt the trunk door rattle. 

“Should be on the body,” said Gladio. Noct kicked out again. “Hold on, okay? Hold on.”

Finally, the trunk popped open. Gladio stood between Noct and the streetlight, a halo of blue edging over his skin. Noctis felt like sobbing in relief, but the moment was broken by the sound of shouts, and a single gunshot splitting the air.

“There’s no time!” Ignis shouted, from somewhere behind Noct. Gladio nodded and leaned down, gathering Noct in his arms. The scarf was tugged down, and Noctis gasped for breath as Gladio lifted him out, stepping over Ravus’ prone body on the way to the car. There was another crack of a gun going off, and Noct couldn't stop himself from flinching.

“It's okay,” Gladio said, dropping Noct off into the backseat of the car. “You’ll be okay.”

Noct made an odd, choked sound, like he was trying to breathe through water in his lungs. Gladio gave him a concerned look and climbed into the back seat with him. Ignis started the car just as the sound of running feet began to grow loud enough to make Noctis feel a cold sweat at the back of his neck. Gladio’s free hand brushed back Noct’s hair even as he sat up and aimed his gun at the people coming up behind him. He fired, drawing his hand away only to reload, and Ignis steered the car, roaring, into the dark. It wasn't until they were two blocks away, engine rattling, that Noctis realized that he was laughing.

“Thought you were dead,” Noctis told Gladio, through racking, bubbling laughter. “Thought they’d—Oh my god, did you really kill Ravus?”

“Saw him throw you in the trunk,” Gladio said. “Had to wait til he was alone, sorry.”

“Yeah,” Noct said, laughing again. “Yeah, you should be.”

Gladio’s hand in Noct’s hair was soothing, teasing over his aching scalp. “Noct—”

“Save endearments until after we’ve shaken them, please,” Ignis called from the front seat. 

“Drive faster, then,” Gladio called. He ducked down at the sound of gunfire, and pulled out a knife. 

“He was gonna keep me,” Noct said, as Gladio cut through his bonds. “He was gonna, Gladio, he’s gonna kill Dad, he—”

“One thing at a time, Noctis,” Gladio said. “Hey, you! We’ve got two on our left!”

“Delightful!” Ignis shouted back. He changed gears—of course they’d end up in a stick shift, Noct thought, through the fizzing panic and relief—and went into reverse, grinning darkly when one of their pursuers crashed into a median.

“We have to get home,” Noct said. He tried to sit up, and Gladio held him down again. “They said they’re coming at dawn.”

“Then that's the last place we’ll be,” Gladio said. “The place is already a war zone by now.”

“Gladio.” Noct fumbled for the lapels of his jacket, and tugged him down just as Ignis veered around a corner. Gladio fell, his hand landing just next to Noct’s head, their faces so close that Noct could see the line of an old, pale scar over Gladio’s eye. 

“I didn't just get you back,” Gladio told him, “for you to pull some dumbass stunt and get yourself killed.”

“It's my dad,” Noct said. “If you had the chance…”

“Noct, I’m not walking you into a slaughterhouse.”

“I’ve done it before!” Noct’s lips brushed against Gladio’s chin as Ignis rounded another corner, heading onto the freeway. “But this time I get a choice.”

“I can't promise you’ll make it out alive, Noct.” Gladio had a hand on his cheek, calloused fingers rough against his smooth skin.

“I trust you.”

Gladio closed his eyes, and Noct kissed him, there in the backseat of a stolen car, tasting of blood and salt and the metallic, sour hint of fear. Gladio’s lips were plush against his own, and he felt the scrape of stubble on his jaw. 

Gladio bumped the ruined mess of Noct’s nose, and drew back at Noct’s whimper of pain. “Fuck. Let me look at that.”

He brushed his hands over Noct’s face, and grimaced. “This'll need work,” he said, “but I can fix the airflow.” Noct nodded, grabbing at Gladio’s jacket for something to hold onto as Gladio twisted his nose into a new position. He screamed, and the car jerked.

“What in blazes are you doing back there?” Ignis cried.

Gladio sat up, and Noct rolled to his side, tears streaming down his bloodstained face.

“I’m fine,” he said, grinning up at Gladio. “I’m great. Either of you have a phone on you?”

 

\---

 

Nyx was pretty sure that he’d never been more fucked in his life. 

It took all of two minutes for someone to figure out who killed the guards watching Gladio. Another ten for Libertus, Nyx’s best partner, to pull their friend Crowe’s body out of the bike shed and take a hit to the leg when Luche tried to silence him. And then Nyx was up against Drautos, fucking Drautos, acting wounded and mournful over the sting of betrayal, and Cor, who didn't have to act. 

Now, Nyx sat back on his knees, a gun trained at the back of his head while Regis stood before his files. Half of the papers were already a smoking heap, and Nyx gave himself about two minutes, tops, before he joined them.

Regis had made a name for himself as a firm believer in the cleansing properties of fire, after all. Nyx had seen his enemies burn to death before, had held them as the oil was poured. Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still see them.

“I’m giving you a chance,” Regis said, as fire trailed up the fourth page of Nyx’s contract, the one he’d signed in blood at sixteen. “Niflheim is at our door, and you were caught aiding the man who helped lead my son to capture.”

“Yeah?” Nyx said. “If Gladio did it, why’d he stick around? Why let himself get caught?” He felt Drautos’ gun press against the back of his head, and turned a wary eye in his direction. “Got something to say, Captain?”

“What you are implying is impossible,” Regis said, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“Sir,” Nyx said. “I owe you my life. If you think I’d lie…”

A cheery whistling sound filled the room, coming from behind Nyx. The gun withdrew, and he saw Drautos take out Nyx’s phone.

“Who the hell is Donut Thief?” he asked.

Nyx smirked. “Answer it and find out.”

Regis held out his hand. “Drautos.” Nyx watched, amused, as Drautos was forced to comply, handing the phone over to Regis in a show of obedience. Regis swiped at the phone and turned on the speaker.

"Speak," he said.

“Dad?”

Everyone—Drautos, Regis, even Cor—turned to the phone in Regis’ hand. 

“Noctis,” Regis said, sounding more frantic than Nyx had ever heard before. “Son, are you safe? Where are you?”

“Gladio and Ignis found me, Dad.” Regis slowly lifted his head, turning to Drautos. Nyx carefully got to his feet. “Ravus was working with some of the Glaives, and this creep, Ardyn, who says he’s...what? Okay, that's not important right now, okay. They’re planning to kill you, Dad, we think Drautos is in on it because he’s the one who—”

Regis reached for a catch beneath his desk as Noct went on. Drautos sighed.

“Oh, hell,” he said, and raised his gun. 

There was nothing Nyx could have done. The bullet hit Regis square in the chest, and he collapsed against the desk, knuckles tight on the edge.

“Dad? Dad! Fuck, Ignis, we need to—”

“Don't,” Regis said, reaching for the phone as Drautos fired again. His fingers slipped. Cor was at his side, trying to block him from view with his own body, firing a shot into Drautos’ thigh before the captain could back away. Nyx’s gun was gone, but there was a set of ornamental knives on the wall, behind glass. He smashed it with his fist and pulled them free, and as Cor drew Drautos’ attention with another round, he hefted the knives in his hands and charged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, Prompto was down to his third energy drink. He'd wandered into the optional dungeon alone, and it was, of course, full of spiders. He could really use a tank. He texted Noct, but didn't get a response, so he just grit his teeth and hoped he had enough firaga spells to make it to the treasure on level 3A.


	9. Chapter 9

“Noctis is gone.”

Aulea Caelum, former scion to the house of Lucis, ran for the weapon display case in her husband’s study. Regis stared at her blankly as she pulled out a semi—her favorite, which she used to gun down opponents when she was just a young nineteen-year-old on the back of Regis’ motorcycle. Regis pushed through the panic clouding his mind and followed her out the door.

“You seem remarkably calm,” he said. 

“The staff still aren't used to turning him away,” Aulea said. She stomped down the hall in her sensible flats, her dark, curly hair bouncing on her back. “And Ardyn never runs if he doesn't have to.”

They found him at the gate, Noctis in one arm as he fiddled with the latch. Aulea fired a round of bullets at his feet, and he turned with a smile.

“You’ll kill him, Regis,” she said, marching through the soft grass towards her brother. “I don't care how useful he is. I don't care how much you owe him. He will never touch my son again.”

 

\---

 

Ardyn Izunia shook out his jacket as he stepped out of Iedolas Aldercapt’s armored car. The Glaives, enforcers of Regis Caelum’s will, surrounded Niflheim’s cars on all sides, guns drawn.

The gates of Ardyn’s old family home loomed large over the grey light of morning. 

His steel-toed boot struck the pavement with the sound of a drum. Like clockwork, the Glaives he’d spent years luring to his side turned on their fellows, the metal of their guns glinting. Inside the car from which he’d left, light sparked as the driver turned to shoot the leader of the Niflheim syndicate in the temple. The air grew thick with the cries of the dying, and Ardyn, standing in the center of it all, clapped his hands in unmitigated delight.

 

\---

 

“Dad!” Noct shouted into the phone even as the call died. He felt thin, strung out, like his chest had been scraped hollow. The edges of the phone bit into his hand, and he lowered his forehead to Gladio’s shoulder. Gladio took the phone away, and Noct’s hand clenched into a fist.

“We have to go back,” he said.

“Out of the question,” said Ignis.

“Most of Niflheim’s heading that way,” Gladio said. “The ones who ain't chasing us.”

“Excuse me,” Ignis said, in a testy tone of voice. “Do you see anyone following us? No, no you don’t, because I—”

“On your right.”

“Oh, son of a mother.” Ignis slammed on the brakes, stood up in his seat, and fired on the oncoming car. Gladio pushed down Noct, who fell to the floor, and emptied out his gun. He wasn't sure which of them blew out the tires, but it was enough for the car to go skidding to a halt in the middle of an intersection. 

“There,” Ignis said, as he started the car up again. “Now no one is following us.”

“If you won't help me,” Noct said, climbing up to the back of the car, “then I’ll do it myself.” He got to his knees on the trunk of the convertible before Gladio dragged him back.

“You're gonna throw yourself in traffic,” Gladio said, in a dull voice, “just to get to the middle of a fucking mob war.”

“I’m not leaving my dad behind,” Noct said. Gladio groaned, held his face in both hands, and kissed him softly. 

“I can't believe I’m gonna die for this,” he muttered, and Noctis gave him a bloody smile, the cuts on his cheek cracking around rust-brown scabs. He dug into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a crushed cigarette.

“No one said anything about dying,” he said, and leaned across the center of the car to dig through the glove compartment. “So. You think this guy has a lighter?”

 

\---

 

“Ah, home.” Ardyn pushed open the door to the Caelum mansion, gesturing for the men and women behind him to follow. A number of them were in blue and grey: signs that they were members of the Tenebraean police, working under Lunafreya and Ravus Nox Fleuret. Luna herself was in the midst of them, her long blond hair tied up in braids, hands reaching for a weapon she didn't have. They’d _earn_ their weapons, Iedolas had decided, when Luna proved herself as loyal to Niflheim as her brother. As it stood, Ardyn had his doubts.

The inner hallway of the Caelum mansion was quiet. Ardyn paused at the doorway to conscientiously take off his shoes.

“Dear brother-in-law!” he called, his voice echoing down the empty hall. “It's so very rude to ignore one’s guests.”

There was a clacking sound, and a canister rolled down the hall from behind a corner. Ardyn laughed and grabbed a man from behind, throwing him bodily into the way of the canister. He didn't turn from the blaze, simply blinked and shook his head. 

“Oh no,” he said. “I simply couldn't accept any gifts, Regis. Not when I have something much more precious.”

He didn't, of course: Ravus, the useless boy, had been found dead near the spot where Ardyn’s car had been, and his dear nephew gone with it. It seemed as though Ardyn would be forever slighted of that particular bargaining tool. Never mind that. Ardyn had ways of tracking people down, and he’d been quietly watching Noctis grow up for years. 

“Fuck off!” shouted a thick, rough voice down the hall.

“Oh, yeah,” said someone else. “Good one, Libertus.”

Ardyn frowned. No Regis? Surely he hadn't been killed already, not when Drautos had been given explicit orders to wait til morning? Ardyn strode forward, feet silent on the stone floor, and gestured behind him.

“Luna,” he said. “If you would be so kind.”

Luna was biting her lower lip, eyes gone dark. She wrenched a gun from the hands of a man at her side and gave a signal to the others in her team. They fanned out before Ardyn, and Luna was the one to round the corner. Remarkably, no shots were fired. She stood there in stunned silence, and then a man all in black ran forward, grabbed her around the middle, and yanked her out of view. 

Ardyn gave a signal for his people to wait. There was a slow, dragging sound, muffled cursing, and then Titus Drautos was pushed to his knees in the center of the hall. He looked like he’d been drenched in water, but Ardyn could smell the gasoline from where he stood. He glanced Ardyn’s way, exhaustion in every line of his body, and shrugged with a jerk.

“Tough luck, Ardyn,” he said, and Ardyn remembered, too late, that there was a reason that Regis had remodeled the front of the house to be made of stone.

Slats in the ceiling fell back, and as Ardyn raced for the exit, pushing his men aside in his haste to get to the door, gasoline poured down in thin, grimy sheets. 

Ardyn made it to the front lawn just as the match flew through the air.

 

\---

 

Ardyn’s ears rang, high and shrill, as he crawled out of the wreckage of the front path. The main entranceway to the mansion was shaped like a wind tunnel, and the fire had bloomed outward in a gust that struck him square in the back. He could smell burning hair near his neck, and his trenchcoat was nothing more than a few shreds of charred leather strung up by lace. He shrugged it off and rolled to his knees. 

Out of the killing ground, flanked by men and women in the black uniform of the Glaive, Regis Caelum limped over the smoking threshold.

“You always did love fire, Regis,” Ardyn said. “Kept it from getting too personal. Kept it clean.”

“You tried to steal my son from me,” Regis said. At his side, a man with short-cropped hair handed him a silver and gold-embossed gun. “I should have killed you eighteen years ago.”

“Yes, why didn't you?” Ardyn asked. He got to his feet. “Aulea would have. Tell me, was it sentiment that stayed your hand?”

There was a screech of tires, but Ardyn barely heard it over the ringing in his ears. He pulled out his own gun. Like him, Regis liked to grandstand. His associates around him—Ah, was that Lunafreya, avoiding his gaze even now?—likely did not. He had only seconds to act.

“Dad!”

Regis’ eyes widened. Oh, the Caelums. They could be so predictable. So _soft._ Ardyn glanced towards the sound, and saw a dark-haired, bloodstained Noctis freeze in shock.

Three gunshots rang out in quick succession. Ardyn felt the impact of a bullet hitting his back, tearing through him, ripping its way through sinew to the bone. He wasn't sure who fell to their knees first, but he liked to think it was Regis. 

Noctis Caelum lowered the gun in his shaking hands. His face was a mask, one Ardyn had a hand in shaping, one he would carry with him even as the scars faded into moonlit crescents on pale skin. Ardyn would live on, immortal, in every smile turned grimace, every sideways glance at a reflection that no longer belonged to Noctis alone. It was hardly the revenge he’d planned, a pittance at best, but Ardyn had learned to take his victories where he could find them.


	10. Chapter 10

Noctis ran through the grass of the Caelum home. He stumbled midway, fell the few desperate steps to where his father lay in Cor’s arms.

“Wait,” he whispered, reaching out to touch Regis’ neck, his cheek, trembling fingers ghosting over his unseeing eyes. “Wait, Dad, just… Wait for me, just this one time, okay? Just one time, come on.” His skin was warm, the blood that spread from the wounds in his chest and neck still hot, but there was no pulse under his touch, no rise and fall of breath. Rage built in Noct’s chest even as the hollow ache of grief threatened to collapse, nothing but a shell, a collection of bruises and broken things. 

He was the last Caelum, the last Lucis, his mother’s smile and his father’s hair, the sum of ten years of waiting outside the door of a study that never opened, waiting for words that never came. 

A large hand lay on his shoulder, and Noctis turned from his father’s body.

“I’m sorry,” Lunafreya said, into the silence. “But it won't be long before the authorities arrive. I… don't think I can explain this one away.”

“And Libertus needs a doctor,” Nyx said. Noct glanced at him: Nyx’s right arm was dark with blood, and he swayed in Luna’s hold.

“I don't know where to go,” Noct said. He felt Gladio’s arms around him, warm and secure, the only thing keeping him upright. He couldn't go to his apartment in the city, not yet. Not like this.

“You can stay with me,” Gladio said. “I have a place.”

Noctis nodded and stared down at the grass at his feet, where all that remained of his family lay, growing cold in the chill of early morning.

 

\---

 

Gladio’s old car was parked in a public lot a few blocks down. Seeing Noctis curled up in the passenger’s seat was strange—Gladio was used to towing Iris around when he was home, but otherwise his car was always empty, a place to store fast food bags and the occasional nest of cheap paperbacks. Noct didn't speak for most of the drive out of the city, choosing to stare out at the streets beyond, watching rush hour traffic form like a coming tide. 

Eventually, Gladio knew he would need to come back. There would be investigations, a funeral to arrange, the processing of any funds that hadn't already been seized by the state. But that could wait for a while.

His apartment in Lestallum had two rooms, one for Iris, one for Gladio. Iris was still at school, but she’d left signs of her presence all over the kitchen by way of empty lunch boxes, crumpled up chip bags, and the remains of an attempt at making a moogle plush. Noctis shrugged through Gladio’s apologies for the mess, and made a beeline for the shower. 

Gladio was making up his bed when he heard Noctis call his name. He turned to the bathroom, and saw Noct standing against the light, naked, hair dripping wet over his shoulders. There were bruises on his side, and he was watching Gladio with a flushed, almost expectant look.

“I didn't think you'd come,” he said.

“What's that?”

“I thought, when I was with Ardyn...” Noct’s fingers clenched on the door. “I thought that was it. I didn't think… When I heard Ignis, and your voice, outside the car…”

“I wasn't gonna leave you,” Gladio said. Noct let out a shaky little laugh, and he stood. “You should get some sleep, Noct.”

Noctis stepped out of the light. He crossed Gladio’s bedroom, and ran his hands along the feathers of his tattoo, up his arms. “Did you mean it?” he asked.

Gladio didn't need to ask what he meant. He nodded, and Noct kissed him, arching up on his toes to reach. 

“I’m glad you're here,” Noct said, backing Gladio up against the bed. Gladio sat, and Noct climbed over him, kissing along the scruff of his jaw. “I’m glad you came for me.”

Gladio fell back on the thin sheets of his bed, and Noctis placed his hands on his shoulders, pushing the leather jacket down his arms.

They moved slow, careful not to disturb the bruises and breaks of Noct’s body, their kisses soft, their touches light. Gladio treated Noctis with a care bordering on reverence, and when their movements came rougher, their kisses more insistent, it was Noctis who rolled to his side and pulled Gladio closer. Noctis who laughed, lost in the shadow of Gladio moving body, content in the safety of his hold.

They lay together, after, Noctis half asleep against Gladio’s chest while the traffic outside roared and fell like the sea.

“Hey.” 

Gladio felt Noct’s hand cover his. “Yeah?”

“You don't have to do this.” Noct said. His voice was muzzy with exhaustion, and he traced the ridges of Gladio’s knuckles. “Stay with me, I mean. No one’s holding you to a contract anymore.”

Gladio looked down. When he first met Noct, his face was a mess of blood, like he was that morning. But he’d been all bravado then, all reckless energy. That was still there, but there was also the depth to his eyes, the curiosity and intelligence he tried to hide behind heavy sarcasm, the kindness that crept out despite his best efforts. 

“What if I want to?” Gladio asked.

Noct took a breath. “Want to what?”

“Stay with you.”

Noctis smiled, dry lips cracking, and squeezed Gladio’s hand. 

“Well,” he said. “I guess that’s alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! Kind of a sad ending, but Noct gets the guy (so does Gladio), Nyx BARELY survived (I almost had him die dramatically in front of Luna, who would then be the one to kill Ardyn, but that would've meant spending half the story in Tenebrae. Sorry, Luna) and Prompto fell asleep at 4am, only to wake at 2 in the afternoon when his maybe-boyfriend, Ignis, showed up at his door because the cops were asking inconvenient questions. Ignis then lived in Prompto's apartment in secret for all of six months before they moved to Altissia (using funds that Prompto didn't ask about) where Ignis started up a cafe, Prompto adopted a dog, and they ran into Gladio, Noct, and Iris a year later. ("I'm Noct Gar now," Noct said. "Noct Gar Amicitia," Gladio corrected. "Though technically," Iris said, "they're both my bitches." She proved this by making Noct buy her an eclair while Gladio frowned in brotherly disapproval.)
> 
> Nyx and Luna fled for Galahd, where they set up their own crime empire with the remaining glaives. Cor offered to help set up, but he fucked off about a week later. Last they heard, he was working with The Hunters, but they couldn't be sure.


End file.
